


Delirious

by Smosh_Fanfics (KateBlack)



Category: Smosh
Genre: AU, Bozari centric, F/F, F/M, Fanfiction of a Fanfiction, I'll explain inside, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-04 21:30:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 76,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15849747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateBlack/pseuds/Smosh_Fanfics
Summary: Boze, or Vixen as she's more commonly known as, has it all. She's taken over the criminal underground, has hundreds of people treating her like a queen, and wields tremendous power; and she did it all while being a woman.But there's one major problem; Atomic. Or, rather, what Atomic isn't.Boze thought that getting her to join her girls would be a dream come true. Having a strong killer who's already been shaped into a sociopath's dream girl? Where was the downside? And with Silver dead by her hands, she'd ensured that Atomic would be her's; forever.But whenever Boze looks at her, she sees Mari Takahashi; the woman Atomic used to be. And comparing Mari to Atomic was like comparing a diamond to quartz. Atomic was just a boring, hollow shell of the vibrant, strong, intelligent person Mari had been.And Boze will do anything to get Mari back.





	1. Atomic

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Deranged - Wesari](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/412362) by MorganLeigh0729. 
  * Inspired by [Demented - Wesari](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/412371) by MorganLeigh0729. 
  * Inspired by [Delusional - Wesari](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/412374) by MorganLeigh0729. 



> Please read the stories that inspired this. A lot of events in the plot depend on it. I know that a lot of you hate Wattpad, but this book will be a lot better if you read that first. Trust me.

The drive seemed to go on forever.

Vixen never made any attempt at small talk. All she did was sit in her plush seat, without a seatbelt Atomic might add (how unsafe), taking sips from her glass of red wine that apparently could never run out. Atomic had been acutely aware of her dark eyes, which seemed to bore into her soul. It had sent a shiver down her spine.

Despite both of them being on the same side, something about Vixen just rubbed her the wrong way. Her aura was so different from Silver's, so different from what she was used to, that it unnerved her. She was terrifying in her own, unique way, and Atomic didn't like it in the slightest.

But in that second, Atomic didn't care. She was too consumed with rage. It coursed through her veins like blood. Someone had killed him. Someone had killed Silver. Someone had taken him from her! How dare they? He was the light of her life, and someone had thought they had the right to extinguish it. How dare they!

She wanted to punch the limo's windows out. To tear open the seats. To grab her bow and stand out of the sunroof, letting arrows rain on any civilian who dared to be walking, to be enjoying themselves, on this day that had caused her so much pain. She wanted to rip the world in half.

But then she caught Vixen's eye, and a hint of intimidation creeps through her, calming her down just enough for the cycle to continue. By the time the limo finally pulled to a stop, she was emotionally exhausted, let alone physically. Her thoughts were even more jumbled than usual.

"We're here," Vixen smiled at her, putting down her glass of wine. Atomic had gotten so used to her having one in her hand that seeing her without one seemed odd.

"Oh," Atomic replied. There were a million things she wanted to ask, but she felt like they would all be answered soon, so she kept her mouth closed.

The door opened. Vixen gestured at it like she was inviting her to go out first. Atomic couldn't get out fast enough.

She found herself in what looked like a parking garage. And not just a small one either, a big one, a gigantic one. You could probably fit a sawed-in-half house down here. Or a cruise ship, if it was only two meters tall. It was big.

An arm was thrown around Atomic's shoulder. All she needed to see was the perfectly-manicured hand attached to it to know it was Vixen. For some reason, her touch didn't make her feel uncomfortable. In actuality, it felt almost comforting.

"Welcome to my humble abroad," Vixen smiled at her. She had pretty teeth. They reflected the light emitting from the ceiling lights. "It gets better than this, I promise."

"I hope so," if Vixen's entire base had just been a parking lot, no matter how big it was, Atomic would've been disappointed. It was ugly down here.

Vixen started walking forward without removing her arm. Seeing as Atomic didn't feel like she could and didn't necessarily want to remove it, she had no choice but to follow.

The parking lot was home to some sick rides. Small cars of every colour, big ones looking like they came straight out of a Mad Max film, and everything in between. She spotted one which was the same colour of Silver's hair, and a surge of rage blew through her. Almost like she could sense it, Vixen gave her shoulder a squeeze of reassurance.

"So, everything went to plan I take it?" Atomic was shocked out of her car-gazing activity but a girl's voice. She found that the two of them had stopped right next to a few tents, like the ones schools used during track meets to keep their students safe from the rain. A few people were running around, carrying boxes from table to cars, cars to tables, tables to tables, and cars to cars.

"Of course," Vixen replied. The girl who had spoken was pretty. She was tall, with tan skin, black hair, and black almond-shaped eyes. "You don't think I'd screw up a mission as important as this, do you?"

"I don't think you'd screw up any mission," the girl replied. Atomic scrunched up her nose. What a suck-up!

"It's a good thought to have, Mayhem," Vixen replied with a smile.

And that was the end of the conversation, apparently, as Vixen started directing her towards a grey door. Mayhem went back to moving boxes.

The door led to an equally boring-grey staircase, which was only a few flights tall. Vixen removed her arm from Atomic's shoulders, which she both appreciated and disliked at the same time.

Eventually, Vixen threw open a door on the side of the staircase, walked through it, and held it open for Atomic. How gentlemanly of her. Atomic almost gave her a curtsey.

After Atomic was through, they had to wait for the guards and Psycho, who Atomic hadn't even noticed following them, to come through as well. Atomic crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. After a few seconds, they were all through, and Vixen started walking again.

They walked through a short hallway before Atomic found herself in a humongous room. There was a working fountain in the middle of it, surrounded by hedges. The walls were covered with doors, which had faded and broken logos above them. There were two floors, and the ceiling was made of glass, which made the water of the fountain glitter _spectacularly_  in the sunlight. Atomic was tempted to jump in it.

"See?" Vixen asked her. "I told you that it got better."

Atomic smiled and spread her hands out. "It sure is. This place is gorgeous!"

"I'm glad you like it," Vixen replied. "It had been absolutely horrendous when I found it. There's nothing sadder than an abandoned mall. I had to work my ass off to make it like it is today."

"Well, you did a great job," Atomic said dreamily.

"Thank you," Vixen smiled. "Oh, I almost forgot! Psycho, can you go get Atomic the gift I  _lovingly_  had made for her?"

"Of course," Psycho replied. When she turned, her long silver ponytail flew through the air, smacking one of the guards in the face, who didn't look happy about it. Atomic giggled at the sight.

Psycho scurried off down the hall and returned quickly with a box in her hands, which had been wrapped in purple wrapping paper. She handed it to Vixen.

"Here you go," Vixen held it out.

"For me?" Atomic asked, tilting her head to the side. She hadn't pegged Vixen as a generous person.

"Of course," Vixen replied. "It would be rude for me to give someone else a gift right in front of you, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would be," Atomic replied, taking the box. So Vixen knew her manners. Good. Silver had been horrible with that.

She ripped the wrapping paper off in seconds and wrenched the top of the box off, throwing it over her shoulder. Her jaw dropped when she saw what was inside.

It was a bow. But it was the prettiest fucking bow Atomic had ever seen. It was painted with sparkly purple paint, and had her sign painted on its grip; Atomic in Japanese. Just like Silver had wanted on her outfit.

To go along with it was a quiver, the same colour with the same symbol on it, along with a few arrows, which were white with purple fletchings. Atomic slipped it over her right shoulder, and the bow over her left.

Then she noticed what the bow had been resting on. It was something made of fabric. She pulled it out and held it in front of her with both of her hands, letting the box drop to the ground.

Her eyes glittered when she saw it. It was her dream outfit. It was one-piece and made out of loose purple leather. White stripes ran down the arms and legs, connecting at her symbol on the chest.

"It's the design Silver wanted for you," Atomic looked over at Vixen, who was holding up a mask, which was white. "My fixers didn't have enough time to make it before you two's mission, and then it was too late."

Atomic brushed her fingers over the leather. "Silver designed this?"

Vixen nodded. "He was quite proud of it. Thought it would look perfect on you."

Without thinking, Atomic hugged it tightly to her chest. He had made this for her! How had she become lucky enough to get someone who loved her enough to do that for her?

Then she remembered why she was here in the first place. Silver was dead.

"I'm going to kill whoever killed you in this, love," she said aloud. Wherever Silver was, she hoped he could hear her.

"Well, darling, if you would follow me," Vixen started, "I'd like to show where you'll be sleeping."

"Oh, okay," Atomic replied. Psycho had picked the box off the ground and was holding it in front of her. She carefully placed the outfit in it and walked over to Vixen's side. Together, they started walking down the hall.

"I'd give you a tour of the base today, but I'm sure you're already exhausted enough as it is," Vixen explained. Atomic nodded in agreement. "So I'll give you the tour tomorrow."

It was late, so there weren't many people out. One room seemed to be alive with sound, but Vixen walked by it too quickly for Atomic to see what it was. They walked up a stopped escalator and walked to the left.

At the end of the hall was a set of giant glass doors. Above them were six watermarked letters, spelling out "Target." How fitting.

"This is one of our two sleeping quarters," Vixen explained as they walked inside. "This one's walls are a bit more colourful, so I thought you'd prefer it. The other ones are just a boring white."

"I do," Atomic replied as they walked through the store. The walls weren't super colourful, but the red stripe that ran across them was better than nothing.

Lining the floors of the Target were beds. Loads of them. Most of them had sleeping girls on them, but a good number of them didn't. Atomic didn't know if it was because they just weren't there or if it was because there was no one to fill them.

Vixen took her to the back of the room. A perfectly-made bed was waiting for her. "Here it is. I hope its good enough."

Atomic sat down and bounced on the mattress. It was softer than the one Silver and her had shared, but without him, it was far less comfortable. But it was as good as it was going to get. "It is."

"Good," Vixen stretched. Psycho laid the box containing her outfit next to her bed before heading off with the rest of the guards. Atomic wasn't sad to see them go. "Lights will be going off shortly. Have a good night, Atomic."

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep," Atomic said truthfully. "Not while I know his killer is out there, getting to live their life normally, after what they've done."

Vixen crouched down in front of her and put her hand on Atomic's cheek. "Atomic, I swear, we will catch the bastard who killed Silver, okay? We'll avenge him. I swear it on my life. And I'll let you be the one to kill them."

Atomic placed her hand on top of Vixen's, holding it close to her cheek. At this point, she was starved for any contact. "I hope so."

"I know so," Vixen stood up and kissed her forehead.

"Thank you," Atomic released her hand. "For everything. I greatly appreciate it."

Vixen smiled. "It's been my pleasure."

And with those words, she started walking away. Atomic watched her go. Once she was out of sight, she slid her quiver and bow off her shoulders and placed them gingerly on top of the outfit. Then she climbed under the covers.

"Whoever killed the man I loved," she whispered to herself. "You better watch out. Because I am coming for you. And I'm going to rip your goddamn heart out."

She didn't fall asleep for a long time.  
  



	2. Boze

Psycho had been waiting for her as she walked out of the Target, a lit cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Boze plucked it out and crushed it under her foot.

"What have I told you about smoking indoors?" she asked, crossing her arms and tapping her foot in displeasure. 

Psycho rolled her eyes and pulled her hair out of its holder, letting it fall over her shoulders. Her hair was probably the thing Boze liked best about her. It was long, silky, and shone brilliantly in the sunlight. "Not to do it."

"So why are you doing it?" Boze raised her eyebrow.

Psycho shrugged. She had a rebellious streak to her that Boze found equally attractive and annoying. She was still on the rocks about whether or not she liked that aspect of Psycho's personality.

"Don't let me catch you doing it again," Boze warned, before turning on her heels and walking away. Psycho jogged to catch up to her.

"Or what?" Psycho asked in a taunting way. Boze hadn't appreciated  _that_ very much.

Boze looked at her with an angry expression painted on her face. "Do you really want to find out?"

She'd never hurt any of her girls if she could avoid it, but Boze had to make sure they knew who was in charge around here. If she ever did end up punishing Psycho, it'd probably be pretty tame; at least for her standards. But Psycho knew what she was capable of, and Boze noticed the way she gulped in fear at her words.

"Point taken," Psycho mumbled, pulling her hair over her left shoulder. Gosh, that hair. Boze felt the urge to run her fingers through it.

"So," Psycho began, desperately trying to change the conversation. "We've got her. What's next?"

"A funeral," Boze replied nonchalantly, throwing her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans.

Psycho shot her a confused glance. "A funeral?"

Boze stopped walking and turned to face her with a smile. "Of course. You don't think I'd just leave Silver's body to rot in that room, do you?"

"No, I'd say that'd be pretty in-character for you," Psycho replied with a playful smirk.

Boze shrugged. "Yeah, okay. But I know how Atomic's brain works. If I organize an extravagant, showy funeral for her lost love, it'll be that last push to convince her to trust me completely."

"Doesn't she already trust you?" Psycho asked. 

"Almost," Boze replied. "But not quite. Silver didn't trust me completely, and some of his thinking rubbed off on her. And, whatever there is left of Mari isn't too fond of me either. With Atomic, I'm taking no chances."

She started walking again, and Psycho followed. "And where, exactly, will we bury him? It's not like we're out in the middle of nowhere. Even the cops we have working for us won't be able to cover you if we're caught burying a body in our front yard. And I'm sure Atomic won't find it very flattering if we bury him out in the middle of nowhere."

"Which is why we're not going to bury him," Boze replied like it was an obvious answer that she was surprised Psycho hadn't come to which, let's face it, it  _kind_  of was. "We're going to burn him."

"That'll draw even more attention to us," Psycho complained. "A fire? That would be like a bat-signal for the police. The last thing I want is Agent Bereta knocking on our door."

Ah. Agent Bereta. The FBI agent who knew she had the most power in the crime world, and was determined to bring her down. He was their biggest threat at the moment when it came to law enforcement, but the corruption she had surrounding him was enough to keep him tamed. Still, it would be nice to have him off her back.

"Who said we're going to be burning him here?" normally, she would've thrown her arm around Psycho's shoulders, but the grey-eyed woman was a full six inches taller than Boze, so she just settled for a light punch on the arm. "Blade's got that nice yacht, and he owes me one for breaking him out of prison. We'll burn good old Silvey out there."

Psycho raised her eyebrow. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I had a lot of time to think about it," Boze replied. 

"That you have," Pyscho replied. "Gosh, I'm so glad you're back. It was so boring, having to lay low and wait for you to break out."

"I know," Boze sighed. Prison had been far from fun. All she'd had to do was stare at Wes angrily, which was fun at first but got boring quick, and lifting weights. "It wasn't like prison was an amusement park either. But you know I had too."

Psycho grimaced as they walked down the broken escalator. Boze wished they were operational, but her generators could only spawn so much power, and it wasn't like she could get any electricity from the city. "Yeah, I know."

There were a few moments of silence as they just walked, side by side, until they reached the planning room. They said their goodbyes before Psycho walked off to the bar, and Boze into the room.

Scratch, Virus, and Pamick Attack were waiting for her, lounging in the foldable chairs. The planning room had once been an Aritzia store, so they had to improvise with the layout. There was a foldout table, the chairs, a whiteboard attached to some wheels, and a bulletin board covered in pictures connected by lines of string was tacked to the wall. Sure, it wasn't very aesthetically appealing, but it was functional. And at this point in time, that was all that mattered.

"So, hows it going?" Boze asked, stopping in front of the three women and placing her hands on her hips. They all jumped to their feet.

"Well, as it turns out, they don't just keep online copies," Virus explained. "They have paper copies, sitting in the facility. And the security measures are far from lax."

"How tough are they, then?" Boze asked as she rested her hands on the table. 

Virus tapped her short nails on the table. "Cameras, guards, pressure plates, and fingerprint scanners. Loki and I will be able to turn off the cameras and the pressure plates, but the scanner doesn't have any connection to the web, so we can't access it. And the firewall is tough enough that we'll only be able to turn it off for a few minutes."

"So the brawlers will have to be quick," Pamick pointed out the obvious. She and Boze had grown rather close in prison. After Boze broke her out, she hadn't hesitated on taking her offer to join her team, and here she was. Most of Boze's girls weren't psychopaths, so having another one around was refreshing. "It'd probably be best to send in two; one to take out the guards, the other to get the files."  
  
"And who would you suggest?" Boze asked. Pamick was the head of her brawlers; she trained and organized them.

"Probably Wrath and Psycho," she replied. "I'd say myself, but I'd be recognized immediately. The two girls we do use would have to blend in to get inside the building without suspicion, and Psycho did a great job getting into the mental asylum."

"And Wrath's a six-foot-seven-tall woman who would look like a female version of the hulk if you painted her green," Boze argued. "She doesn't exactly blend in with the crowd."

"Well, neither's Jab, and Rage is too inexperienced," Pamick pointed out. "We don't have any other girls who could complete the mission."

Boze stood up. "I think I might have someone."

"Who?" Pamick asked.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," Boze stretched. "I need to talk to her first."

Pamick narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything.

"And are we a hundred percent sure they're all there?" Boze asked.

Virus nodded. "There's no other place they'd be. I checked every other correctional facility in the state, and they all have all of their patient files online. If they aren't there, then they aren't anywhere."

"So everything's planned out then?" Boze asked with a yawn.

"I sent a detailed layout of the plan to you," Virus responded. "It explains everything in detail."

Boze nodded. "Very well. You're all dismissed."

Virus and Scratch practically sprinted out of the room. Instead of following them, Pamick placed her hand on Boze's shoulder.

"Whoever this girl you want to be sending is, she better be good," Pamick said. Her voice was harsh. Boze knew why. Pam hated whenever someone tried to suggest that their plan was better than her's. It was a trait the two of them shared.

"I think you already know who she is," Boze replied. To her, it was obvious.

Pam growled. "I hope you know what you're doing. The last time anyone put any faith in her, it cost us all  _everything_."

"I'm not Wesley Johnson," Boze replied sternly.

"You better not be," Pam hissed. Then she removed her hand and walked away. Boze watched her go before making her way to her own room.

Her room was probably the best in the entire compound. She was the boss, after all. Before, it had been a jewellery shop. Then she'd slapped some black wallpaper over the walls, put guns and knives in the display cases, shoved a bed into the corner, and turned the display case in the middle of the room into her desk. Sure, it wasn't perfect, but Boze was happy with it.

She pulled out her leather chair and sat down before opening her laptop. Sure enough, sitting in her inbox (of a private email server. She wasn't an idiot) was the copy of the plans for the mission that Virus had sent her. She pulled a bottle of wine out of the display case, filled a glass, and started to read.

It took her a good two hours to read the entire plan. By the time she was done, lights had long since gone out, and her laptop was at a mere 34%. Besides for a few alterations she'd made on the timing, the plan seemed pretty much perfect to her.

Then, finally, she pulled out her phone and sent Blade a text. 

_I'm calling in that favour now._ _-Vixen._

Boze stood up and stretched. Damn, had today been successful. She felt pretty damn proud of herself.

She'd been dreaming of this day for months. The day she finally got Mari in her clutches. It was even better than she'd thought it would be, all those months ago, when she gave Wes the advice on how to brainwash Mari. She'd expected, back then, that she'd have to do a bit of mind-breaking of her own, but Atomic had come as fractured as a dropped wine bottle. She was perfect.

Boze had no doubt that Atomic would be perfect for the mission. According to rumour, she'd done well on the one she went on with Silver. She'd even put up a hell of a good fight when Officer Topp had grabbed her from what he'd told her, so she wasn't an easy fish to nab. From what Boze had gathered, she listened to instructions. All she'd have to do was to tell Atomic that those files contained information that would help them catch Wes' "killer," and she'd be golden. She had to admit; Silver had done an  _amazing_  job with her, which was quite out of character for him.

She didn't know exactly who she wanted to blame for Wes' death yet. Maybe she'd never pick anyone. Sending Atomic on an endless loop, bouncing her from suspect to suspect, would be fun. It'd be like a game; who are we blaming this month?

Most likely, however, she'll pin it on someone convenient. Someone she needed out of the picture, like Agent Bereta. But she didn't have to worry about that right now. Right now, she needed to sleep, because she was as tired as  _fuck._

Boze stumbled over to her bed and climbed in. Her night was filled with dreams that were sweet for her, but would have been a nightmare for any sane person.


	3. Atomic

She woke up to the sound of a bell.

Atomic sat up and stretched, twirling her wrists in the air, before hopping out of bed. There were far more girls in the room than there had been last night. To Atomic, it seemed like there were hundreds, rising out of their beds and chatting with one another, brushing their hair and sharpening their knives. It made her feel even more alone, in her little corner.

A tall, pretty girl walked over to her. Her skin was darker than Vixen's, and she had natural hair that looked soft. Atomic felt the urge to touch it.

"Glad to see you're up," the girl said, placing her hands on her hips. "Vixen wants you."

Atomic nodded in understanding, and the girl turned on her heels. Her hips swayed from side to side as she walked. Atomic felt dwarfed when she was standing next to her.

"Why does Vixen want me?" she asked, running her fingers through her hair. God, she needed a new outfit. The prison outfit she was still clad in had been boring before she'd even been forced to put it on. She needed something pink, or purple, or blue, or-

"It's your first day," the girl responded, answering the question Atomic had completely forgotten she'd asked and breaking off her line of thought, "Vixen needs to explain some things to you."

"Ah," Atomic responded awkwardly. So she was going to get a tour, probably. That would be fun. She wondered if she'd get her own room.

The girl led her out of the Target and to a room with blacked-out windows. She rapped on the door, and seconds later, it swung open, revealing Vixen.

"Here she is," the girl said, stepping aside so Vixen could see Atomic, who waved.

"Thank you, Havoc," Vixen smiled. "Come on in, Atomic."

Atomic took up her offer and stepped inside. Vixen's room was quite bleak, if you asked her. Besides for the pretty guns and knives in the display cases, Atomic thought the room was completely bland. Vixen could use a better home decorator.

Vixen closed the door and gestured to a chair lying on the outskirts of one of the display cases. "Take a seat."

Atomic did as she was told. The chair rolled, and she had to fight the urge to roll around across the floor. That would probably count as rude, and she wasn't about to be rude when Vixen had shown her so much kindness over the past two days.

"So, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," Vixen sighed as she sat down across from her. "It's about Silver."

The urge to roll around instantly vanished as sadness started to overtake her. "Have you caught who killed him?"

Vixen shook her head. "Unfortunately, no."

"Then what about him?" Atomic was gripping the armrests now. Hope filled her. Had Silver come back to life? If any man could do it, it would be him. She could picture it perfectly, him rising out of the ground and sweeping her up in a tight, passionate kiss as angels came down from the heavens and started playing trumpets while-

"His funeral," Vixen replied, pouring herself a glass of wine. Did that girl bathe in wine? "I want to have it tonight. I was hoping you'd approve of the plan."

"What's the plan?" it better be extravagant. Silver deserved to be buried like an Egyptian pharaoh, but with twice the gold.

"Well, seeing as we can't bury him in a graveyard, as we're all on the run, and it would be disrespectful to him to bury him in an unmarked grave somewhere in the wilderness where he could be dug up by animals, I thought it would be best if we burned him," Vixen explained. "One of my accomplices has a large boat. The plan is that we sail out onto the ocean and burn him there, like the Vikings did with their dead. How does that sound?"

Atomic mulled over the idea. Burning him did seem glamorous. And violent. He'd probably love it.

"It sounds good," she replied.

Vixen smiled. "I'm so glad you like it."

She poured another glass of wine and handed it to Atomic. Silver hadn't been a big drinker, so they hadn't had much alcohol around the house, but Atomic seemed to remember the taste of it somehow. She took the glass and took a sip. It tasted sweet, and slightly like fruit. She liked it.

"And I have something a little less pressing to talk about too," Vixen explained. "What role you'll be playing on my team."

"You have roles?" Atomic asked. She'd just assumed that everyone did the same thing. Now that she thought of it, she hadn't given much thought at all to how Vixen's team worked.

"Of course," Vixen replied. "Every girl has something she's good at, so I have jobs, all of them filled with women who fit that skillset. For example, I have my watchers; girls who can move as quietly as a mouse and blend in perfectly with every crowd. They watch people for me, and gather information on them."

"Do you want me to be a watcher?" Atomic hoped not. That sounded boring. She was more of an explosions and stabbing kind of girl.

Vixen smiled. "Oh, not at all. I'm sure you would do amazingly at any job I gave you, but the one that most fits you, in my opinion, is a brawler."

"A brawler?" Atomic asked. That sounded more fun.  
  
Vixen nodded. "A brawler. My strongest and most athletic girls. You'd do the parts of missions that take the most force and energy; fighting guards and enemies, carrying things, moving from place to place quickly; pretty much anything physical. I think you'd be perfect at it."

Atomic was silent for a few seconds. Everything she'd described seemed appealing. That sounded exactly like what Silver had wanted her to do. And it might give her a chance to kill his killer all by herself.

"I think it would be perfect for me too," Atomic agreed.

"Good, good," Vixen smiled. "I'll have Pamick show you the ropes."  
  
"Pamick?" she'd heard that name somewhere. She knew she had. The memory was just at her fingertips. But when she tried to grasp it, it slipped through her fingers like ink, receding into the swirling abyss that was her mind, most likely never to be seen again.

"Yes, Pamick," Vixen replied. "Silver probably mentioned her once or twice to you."

Atomic took a deep breath. There it was. She must've been one of Silver's friends, and she'd just never bothered to remember her. Everything was fine.

She knew she was crazy, sure, but she never liked  _feeling_ crazy. 

There was a knock at the door, and a girl stepped inside. She was taller than Atomic by a few inches, and had short black hair with a red streak in it. Atomic always appreciated someone who added a little spice to their hairstyle. She also had high cheekbones and was quite pretty. 

"Just on time!" Vixen exclaimed. "Pamick, this is Atomic. Atomic, Pamick."

Pamick extended her hand. Atomic hesitantly took it. She looked familiar, and it was unsettling. Maybe Silver had shown her a picture of her?

"Hi," Pamick smiled. "You ready for a tour of the compound?"

Atomic nodded hesitantly. "Can't wait."

"Great," Pamick headed out the door. Atomic waved goodbye to Vixen and followed her.

"So, this is Vixen's room, obviously," Pamick said once they were outside and the door was closed. "You aren't allowed in unless she gives you permission to enter. It's not technically against the rules to knock, but I'd discourage it."

She gestured to all the rooms on this level. "Most of these are guest rooms. At the moment, they're all empty. And that abandoned H&M is what we call the 'kid's corner.' It's pretty much daycare for any guests kids and any girl's kids. I'd suggest staying away from it. It gets pretty loud over there."

"There are kids here?" Atomic asked.

"Unfortunately," Pamick sighed.

"But I thought that guys weren't allowed here?" Atomic scrunched up her nose. She certainly hadn't seen any walking around.

"They're allowed in small doses," Pamick replied. "Guests and bedwarmers. They just aren't allowed to stay. Most of the kids we have are either mistakes or from past marriages."

"Oh," Atomic replied. She didn't have much experience with kids. It would probably be best if she stayed away from them; for everyone's safety.

"Anyway, if you walk further right or left on the top floor, you'll hit either of the sleeping quarters," Pamick explained. "Whichever your's is, the other one's practically identical. The Infirmary's also up here, but with any luck, you'll never have to visit it."

Atomic nodded, and the two of them made their way to the escalator. It was kind of depressing, seeing them stopped like they were. Vixen should really work on fixing that.

"So, here's the cafeteria," Pamick stopped in front of an abandoned food court. Girls were sitting at the tables, chatting and eating. Atomic spotted eggs, bread, and bacon. "This is where meals are served and eaten, but I assume you already figured that out. Kitchens are in the back, but you won't be needing them."

Pamick turned and pointed to a makeshift stage. There was a wooden block sitting on it, a large bar with a rope, and a wooden pole. Wrapped around the pole were what looked like chains. "And this is the execution stage."

Atomic's eyes widened, and she stepped closer to it. "Execution?"

Pamick nodded. "If you betray Vixen, or if you're one of her enemies, this is where you'll meet your demise."

"That's sick," Atomic said in amazement.

Pamick laughed. "Isn't it?"

The next rooms Pamick showed her were the two weapon storage rooms, which looked practically identical. Covering the shelves that used to hold books and video games were every weapon you could think of; guns, knives, bows, even a medieval sword. It was glorious.

Then it was the games room, which was in an abandoned pool hall. There was a ping-pong table, an air hockey table, some pinball machines, and, of course, pool tables.

Next was the bar, which was in an abandoned bar, obviously. There were a few tables pushed against the walls and an empty space in the middle of the floor for dancing.

There was also the tech room, where a few girls were sitting in front of computers with headphones on, typing away, all in front of a faded Apple logo.

Finally, there was the meeting room, in an abandoned candy store. Two couches sat in the middle of the room, facing each other. According to Pamick, this was where Vixen met with guests and accomplices.

Then they moved on to the right side of the ground floor. First were the two storage rooms, that held anything that you couldn't kill people with (unless you were crafty).

Next was the planning room, where missions were planned. It was probably the ugliest room in the entire building. She'd have to ask Vixen to let her do a little redecorating sometime, because  _damn_  did this place need her.

"And that's pretty it," Pamick sighed once they returned to the food court. "I know it's a lot to remember, but you'll get the hang of it."

"Thank you," Atomic said, remembering her manners.

"No problem," Pamick smiled. "Now, I'm sure that you're starved. Go to the A&W. They'll give you something to eat. I'll talk to Vixen about getting you a new outfit."

Atomic sighed in relief. "Oh, thank the Lord. I've been itching to get out of this."

"I'm sure you have," Pamick replied before walking back up the escalator. 

Atomic went over to the A&W and asked the girl there for some food. She gave her some eggs and bacon. That was good enough for her, and she sat done and devoured it.

Leaning back in her chair, Atomic looked at the execution stage and smiled. Whoever had killed Silver, she would get them on that stage. Tie them to that pole and put an arrow through their head, right in front of everyone.

No, that would be too quick. She'd cover them in gasoline and send a burning arrow into their kneecap. Yes, that would be better. Whoever had killed the love of her life deserved to die slowly and in agony, and she'd make sure that they did.


	4. Boze

It was a calm night. 

The sky was clear and alight with twinkling stars. The sea was still, besides for the ripples and splashing the pier made as it bobbed on the water. There wasn't a trace of wind.

Boze stood on the wooden planks, waiting. Psycho and Siren were standing next to her, hands on their guns. Boze was sure that Blade wouldn't try anything, but when it came to people as deranged as he was, you could never take any chances. She would know. She was just like him.

The rest of her girls were waiting in vans. She couldn't take everyone, unfortunately; Blade had made it very clear that his yacht could only hold one hundred and fifty people tops. Whether or not he was telling the truth was debatable, but Boze wasn't about to piss him off for no beneficial reason. So she grabbed all of her most trustworthy girls, piled them into vans, and took off.

Blade was late. She could tell from the way Siren grimaced when she checked her watch. The blonde hated it when anything went off schedule, even if it was just by a few seconds. It was why Boze had made her head of the transportation department. If you gave Siren a task, she'd complete it with frightening precision.

"Finally," Siren muttered as Blade's yacht appeared on the horizon. 

"It'll take him at least twenty minutes to reach us," Psycho pointed out. She had a lit cigarette resting on her lips. Ever since Boze had established the no-smoking policy, Psycho had been using every opportunity she had outside to shove on in her mouth. She was going to kill herself if she kept it up.

Siren mumbled some curses and insults under her breath. 

It took Blade twenty-two minutes to reach them, as Siren so helpfully pointed out. Some of Blade's men jumped off the deck and tied it to the pier. A staircase descended from the pearl-white hull, and out walked Blade himself, dressed in a coal-black suit.

"Blade!" Vixen smiled bitterly. His lateness had gotten to her too at this point. "How nice of you to show up!"

Blade smirked. Out of all the remaining members left of their little criminal underground, Blade was by far her least favourite. But he was rich, so there was use for him yet.

"And how nice of you to grace us with your presence," he responded, sounding far too sugary sweet. She was well aware of the fact that he wasn't too fond of her, either.

"Isn't it?" she responded. She noticed how his knuckles turned white as he gripped the staircase's railway in anger.

"Where's the body?" he asked.  _Cutting right to the chase, huh? How impatient of you, Blade._

"You'll see," Boze responded. She brought her fingers to her lips and whistled. The back doors of her ten vans opened, and out streamed her girls. Blade's eyes widened when he saw how many there were.

"You told me one hundred and fifty," Vixen told him. "So that's how many I brought."  
  
He grimaced.

The four brawlers she'd brought reached into the middle van and pulled out what Blade had been looking for. Each of them took a corner and lifted, walking down the pier with the coffin resting on their shoulders. The silver of it almost matched the stars.

"I have some men who could probably take that for-" Blade started.

"My girls are strong enough to handle it," Boze replied, cutting him off.

Blade's eyes narrowed as he stepped aside, letting her girls bring the coffin inside. Then Boze stepped forwards, walking up the stairs.

"It's time this party began, don't you think?" she asked Blade as she passed him. The rest of her girls had started walking up the pier.

"Absolutely," Blade said with an enthusiasm that did not read on his face.

Boze had to admit; Blade's yacht was nice. It looked like something a millionaire would own. Which wasn't surprising, seeing as Blade had made his fortunate stealing from the rich. He was like Robin Hood if you removed the morals or basic human decency.

It seemed he'd done everything she'd asked him to do. There was a food and water bar, silver banners and streamers on the walls, and a pile of wood that smelled like gasoline on the deck. Boze was almost certain that Wes would've hated being put to rest like this, but from the way Atomic was looking around the yacht in glee, it seemed the broken-minded woman didn't share the same opinion.

Then again, from what Boze had gathered on Atomic, you could make anything seem appealing to her if you threw enough glitter on it. 

Mari would've hated it. She would've said that it was too colourful, too festive, for a funeral. Mari would've preferred burying any man she loved in an unmarked grave to this. If Boze had given a single shit about Wes, she would've agreed.

 _Stop it,_  Boze scolded herself.  _Don't think of Mari. She's dead._

Boze watched Atomic and the other three brawlers lay Wes' coffin next to the pile of wood. By that point, all of her girls were onboard, and Blade had fucked off somewhere. His men undid the ropes tying the ship to the pier, and then the ship was off.

As music started pumping out of speakers Blade had on the deck and her girls started grabbing partners and dancing, Boze studied Blade's men. They weren't nearly as many of them as her girls; twenty at the most. Whether or not these were all the men Blade had or just the ones he brought with him, she didn't know. Truth be told, after she broke herself out of prison she'd been so focused on Wes and Mari that she'd paid barely any attention to the other's she let out. It was a stupid mistake, and one she needed to fix; fast.

She noticed the outline of guns in their tux's, even though she and Blade had agreed that neither of them would bring weapons. She'd be more pissed about it if she hadn't made sure that all of her girls had at least one knife in their boots.

Boze had to admit; she hated parties. Watching her girls having fun while they were dancing and drinking was far from unenjoyable, sure, but they were just so _boring._  She hated dancing, and drinking even more so; being drunk made her feel weak, and there was nothing Boze hated more than feeling weak. So, like always, she found herself leaning against the back wall, waiting for it to be time to burn Wes.

But there was one thing she liked about parties; everyone else being drunk. Because if they are and you're not, then you have _all_  the power. And when it came to fellow psychopaths who were far from being your friend, you wanted all the power you could get. 

Which was why it brought a huge smile to her face when she saw Barbie _finally_  approach Blade like they'd agreed to have her do, twirling her blonde hair and laughing at all his jokes, which Boze knew from experience weren't funny. And when she saw him take a chug of beer while Barbie threw her's overboard quickly, her smile grew even wider. Barbie was good and what she did, that was for sure.

Boze made her way to the food bar and grabbed some cheese. She still had a half hour to go before the time she and Blade had agreed to burn Wes, and she was bored out of her  _goddamn_ mind. She should've brought a phone, a book, _anything._  

Just when Boze was about to run out of cheese, Pamick grabbed her arm and started dragging her towards the dance floor. Boze shot her a death glare.

Pam glared right back. "You're going to dance with us."

"No, I'm not," Boze argued.

"Yes you are," Pam argued right back. "This is a party, not a-a sit-in-the-corner-and-do-nothing-arty."

Boze shot her a look. "Pam, how much have you had to drink?"

"Does it matter?" Pam replied, slurring over the last word. "Now come.  _Dance."_

Boze sighed. It couldn't hurt, she supposed. And when it came to Pam, refusal wasn't an option. "Fine. Who's we, by the way?"

"We" turned out to be Atomic. As soon as they hit the dance floor, Pam joined Atomic straight away, hopping ridiculously to the generic electro song that was playing. Boze rolled her eyes and tried to intimidate their movements. Like she said before, dancing was not her strong suit. If you left her to her own devices she'd look like a fish pulled straight out of the water.

Atomic, however, was completely in the zone. The way she moved was kind of hypnotizing to look at, with the way she was swaying her hips and swishing her hair and bobbing her head and-

The music cut off abruptly, replaced by Blade's slurred voice. Barbie was doing her job well. "If everyone would please clear off the deck so we can prepare the funeral pyre, that'd be great."

Boze saw a tear well up in Atomic's eye at those words. She wrapped her arm around her shoulders in fake comfort and led her away. Honestly, Boze had no idea how Wes had managed to break her so well. Mari never would've mourned Wes. She would've cheered after hearing about his death.

 _No, Boze,_ she reminded herself.  _The way Mari would've reacted doesn't matter. She's gone._

Five of Blade's men started preparing the pyre. One of them poured what Boze could only assume was some sort of fire-resistant substance around the wood, while the other's lifted Wes' body out of the coffin. He looked magnificent in the moonlight, his silver hair all aglow. Her medics had done an amazing job preparing his body. If it weren't for the bullet hole in his head, it would've looked like he was sleeping. The men doused him in gasoline and stepped back.

Blade walked onto the deck, a torch in one hand, the other wrapped around Barbie's waist. Boze shot her an approving look.

He stopped in front of Boze and handed her the torch, which she took, before turning to Atomic.

"You should do the honours," she told her. It was silent beside for the lapping of the waves and crackling of the torch.

Atomic's eyes shone orange in the light as she took the torch and stepped towards the pyre. She stopped a few centimetres away from Wes's face and closed her eyes. She mumbled a few words that Boze couldn't hear, kissed him on the forehead, and dropped the torch.

Wes went up surprisingly fast. In mere seconds you could barely see him through the wavering flames, licking the night sky. It was a pretty sight to behold.

After a few minutes, Blade turned the music back on, and the party was raging once again. Atomic, however, stood exactly where she was, staring at the flames. Tears were running down her cheeks.

It was the opportunity Boze had been waiting for all night.

She walked over to her and threw her arm around her shoulders. Atomic leaned into her embrace. They stood there for a few seconds.

Boze was glad that Atomic was so fucked up in the head at that moment, because she was so bad at faking empathy it hurt. Out of all of the emotions she knew she was  _supposed_  to feel, that one was the hardest to imitate.

"Atomic," she said softly. "What if I told you there was a way you could help me find his killer?"

Atomic looked at her with red eyes that burned with anger. "I'd do whatever you asked."

Boze grinned. It was the answer she'd been expecting to hear, but hearing it said out loud gave her a rush of satisfaction. She now had Atomic wrapped around her finger. There was no doubt about that. And she loved it.

"Then I have a mission for you."


	5. Atomic

Besides for the sound of the engine and the tires crunching on the gravel of the road, it was silent in the van.

Atomic sat on a hard bench, opposite her partner, who sat on another identical one. There was no other furniture in the van. Their driver, who she remembered was named Siren from Silver's funeral, was blocked from her view by a wall. Everything was black; the wall, the floor, the ceiling, and the benches. The only thing with any colour was the dim lightbulb attached to the ceiling, which swayed so heavily with the van's movements that Atomic was worried it would fall on them.

Psycho was the only interesting thing to look at. The silver-haired girl was playing with a pocket knife, twirling it around her fingers in a way that looked far from safe. Her nails were perfectly painted silver. Atomic had to ask her where she got them done. All in all, Psycho was practically glowing in the faint light coming from up above.

"So, you know the plan, right?" Psycho didn't even bother looking up at her as she spoke.

There was an aura of hostility in her words, though Atomic didn't know why. Had she given her a reason to distrust her?

 _The only thing she knows about you is that you're completely fucked up,_ a familiar yet unfamiliar voice said in her brain, _not exactly someone you'd want to put your life in the hands off. That's why._

Atomic blinked. Where had that come from? It felt like a thought, but she didn't  _think_  like that. But it must've been hers. Who else would it have been's? If she had been crazy enough to hear voices in her head, it would've started happening a while ago.

"Uh, yeah," Atomic replied once she realized that Psycho was still staring at her with intense grey eyes. "Of course I do."

"You better," Psycho pointed the knife at her. "If you fuck this up for me, I'm going to put this through your neck, understand?"

"Is this how you treat the other members of Vixen's girls, or am I just lucky?" Atomic asked, raising her eyebrow. 

Her words didn't feel entirely like her own. It was like they had come up from deep inside her, a place which she was too scared to venture. In a way, it was terrifying. In another, it was relieving. The words had a sort of tranquillity about them. They were soothing. For some reason, Atomic felt exhausted all of a sudden, and those words felt like water down her dry throat.

Psycho grimaced. "You're  _not_ one of Vixen's girls."

"Tell that to her," Atomic scoffed. "I'm sure she'd disagree."

More soothing words. Suddenly, that feeling of relief was gone, replaced with anger and panic. Atomic blinked. What in the world was going on? Had the seriousness of the mission unlocked an entirely new level of her insanity up to her?

Something flashed in Psycho's eyes before she narrowed them, pocketing the knife. A few seconds later, the van rolled to a stop. Siren opened the doors, dressed in a police outfit that went quite well with her blonde hair.

"Break a leg," she smiled, stepping aside as Psycho slid out, throwing her fake ID card around her neck. As she watched her pat down her lab coat, Atomic forgot entirely about the words and the voice.

"We will," Atomic replied as she climbed out, patting down her disguise once she hit the ground. She wished she could wear the outfit Silver designed for her, but alas, Vixen had explained it was impossible. Doctors didn't wear bright-purple tracksuits. She did, however, have an arrow tucked into her belt, hidden underneath her lab coat, for luck. And the disguise was far from uncomfortable, save from the bag she had strapped to her back.

Psycho wasted no time before making a beeline for the door. Vixen had given Atomic a rundown of the plan, so she knew where they were; the dropoff for food, right outside the kitchens.

The door's lock was electronic, so they barely had to wait before they heard the click of it opening. Techs were watching them through the security cameras, making sure everything went smoothly. They reminded Atomic of guardian angels.

The halls of the prison were far from pretty. As the two of them walked briskly down them, Atomic was stricken by how ugly they were. The floor and ceiling were both made of concrete, while the walls were painted a boring white. The lights attached to the ceiling made everything glow an ugly yellow colour.

At one point, they found themselves in a cell block. It was late, so most of the prisoners were sleeping in the tiny cells. The ones that were awake watched them go with weary eyes. The entire room stank of misery. It was nothing like her cell in the asylum, which had been spacey and entirely hers.

She couldn't believe that Silver had been forced in here once.  Imagining him behind those bars made her feel a sense of sadness she couldn't describe.  _Oh, Silver. Life had been so unfair to you._

The guards they passed paid them little attention. Psycho would walk a little faster around them, however, which made Atomic far from happy. What was the point? It would probably just make them more suspicious, if anything.

By the time they finally reached their destination, Atomic was beyond bored. She was ready to get this over with.

The four guards were lined up against the wall, two on each side of the door. One was a girl, the other three men. When Psycho and Atomic stopped in front of them, only one of the men stepped forward.

"What is your business here?" he asked. His voice was hard and gruff. Atomic wondered how many times he must've been punched in the throat to sound like  _that._

"I need to see the files of one of my patients," Psycho explained.

"Which patient?" the guard asked.

"Melanie Moat," Psycho replied. "ASAP, please."

"I'll need to see your ID," the guard replied. He was a rather attractive man, with pretty chocolate brown eyes and a sharp jawline. Scars in varying sizes covered his face, giving him a rugged and masculine look. "Can't just let anyone in, I'm sure you understand."

Psycho rolled her eyes and sighed. "Are you kidding me? She's really injured. I need to know her blood type."

The female guard looked up for a few seconds. She had an attractive face. Full blue eyes and high cheekbones. After a few seconds, she got bored and looked back down at the floor. Atomic couldn't tell why the floor was more interesting than Psycho and the guard's interactions, but to each their own, she guessed.

"You know the protocol," the guard replied. His eyes had narrowed in suspicion. He looked far more handsome with a relaxed face. Now he just looked scary. "ID. Now."

"Fine," Psycho scoffed, pulling her ID off her neck. "Here. But if she dies, it's not my fault."

The guard grabbed it out of her hands with calloused fingers. Psycho wasted no time. Atomic watched as her fingers clasped around her pocket knife and pulled it swiftly from her pocket. The poor guard didn't even have enough time to read her card before her knife was in his neck and his blood was spurting onto the concrete ground. He went down soundlessly.

 _That_  certainly got the other guards attention. Psycho stabbed the other guard next to the door in the eye before chucking his corpse at the man standing next to him. They both toppled over with a thud. 

The female guard had pulled out her gun and fired a shot, but Psycho had already ducked. She tackled her midsection and wrestled the guard's gun out of her hand before shooting her in the head.

In a blink of an eye, she was standing again. Before the last guard even had a chance to climb out from underneath his accomplice's body, she shot him in the neck. It had only taken Psycho less than a minute to take them all down.

Then she grabbed the guard closest to the door's body and dragged him to the fingerprint scanner. She breathed on his thumb before pressing it against the blue touchpad. A few seconds later, the touchpad turned green, and Psycho pushed open the iron door. 

"Go!" she shouted at Atomic. It took her a second to snap out of spectator mode into action mode, but once she did, she rushed inside.

The filing room was big. Filing cabinets were shoved against the walls in perfect rows, all of them marked with a letter. Some of them had the same one. Atomic rolled up her sleeve until she saw the last names Vixen had given her, written on her skin in black ink. Pulling her leather bag off of her back, she got to work.

There were a lot of files. Thirty in the A cabinet. Two in the B. Ten in E. One in G. Five in H. Twenty-two in J. Two in L. Two in M. One in P. Two in R. Fifteen in S. Thirteen in T. One in V. Four in W. Each one thicker than the last. By the time she had grabbed them all, she had suffered multiple papercuts, and her bag was almost bursting.

Wrestling the clasp shut, Atomic ran out of the room. She noticed that three more guards had joined the pile already on the floor.

When she saw her, Psycho threw her a gun and took off down the hall. Atomic followed her, her heart beating wildly and her breathing frantic. God, was this  _exciting._  Her first mission as one of Vixen's girls, and everything was going exactly as planned. 

A few guards tried to stop them, but the two girls shot them down easily. Guns weren't exactly Atomic's style, but they worked in a jam. She didn't remember exactly where she had been taught to shoot; Silver had only ever given her a bow; but it felt natural in her hand.

Soon, they reached the door they'd come through. Psycho reached the van first and jumped in. Atomic barely managed to get in before Psycho slammed the door shut. As soon as the click of the lock could be heard, the van lurched forward, and they were on their way.

Psycho didn't even give her time to sit down before snatching the bag out of her hands and sifting through its contents. Her finger lingered on one of the M's. Eventually, she snapped it shut and threw it back over to her.

"Congrats on not fucking it up," she scoffed.

"Thank you!" Atomic replied with a smile, despite having been socked in the face with a heavy leather bag seconds earlier.

Psycho almost looked disappointed at her words, though Atomic didn't know why. The silver-haired girl was confusing as hell, and this time, there was no voice to tell her what was happening inside of her brain.

The two of them both sat down. Psycho leaned against the wall and pulled out her now blood-soaked knife. Atomic hugged the bag and closed her eyes.

Somewhere in that bag was the face of the person who had killed the man she'd loved. They were probably smiling in their mugshot, the bastard. How dare they?

Vixen had promised that these files would help her find Silver's killer. Atomic hoped that would happen sooner than later. Her dreams were haunted by a faceless figure who kept shooting Silver in front of her, again and again until she woke up sweating, saying the same thing over and over again.

"If only you hadn't fucked up on that mission. If only you hadn't been captured. If only you'd been here to protect him. Then this never would have happened."

It was her fault he'd died. But she hadn't fucked up this mission. She did not make the same mistake again.

Whoever killed Silver was about to get what was coming to them.


	6. Boze

"Our next story is about Mari Takahashi, a former psychologist made famous when she was kidnapped by Wesley Johnson, a serial killer who went by the name of Silver Slayer, a year ago. The case earned a lot of attention when Dr. Takahashi wrote her bestselling book, _The Inner Mind of a Sociopath,_ describing the ordeal.Johnson recently recaptured her after he broke out of jail. No one knows what he did to her over the period she was gone, but after she was arrested at the Loft massacre and taken to an asylum, psychologists reported that she 'wasn't right in the head.' Everyone is wondering; what happened to the esteemed psychologist? And is it possible to get her back? My name is Gloria Borger, and I am here with Courtney Miller, her former colleague, friend, and the psychologist who was assigned to her case. Welcome, Dr. Miller."

"Thank you for having me," Boze had to scoff at Courtney's appearance. There were dark bags around her eyes. Her skin was at least two shades paler than normal. She looked like a corpse. Was she really that worried for Mari? How touching.

"We're glad to have you," the newswoman responded. She was short and on the heavier side, with brown hair and green eyes. "We're all wondering; what did you mean when you said that Dr. Takahashi wasn't 'right in the head?'"

"She meant that her brain had been fried," Pamick said from the bar stool next to her, a mug of beer in hand. Boze nodded in agreement.

"She was... different," Courtney replied. "And not in a small way. The way she talked, the way she acted, even the way she moved... I've known Mari for a long time, and the woman who had sat in front of me in that room was someone else entirely."

"So you think Wesley Johnson did something to her?" the newswoman asked.

Boze laughed. "Of course he did something to her! What kind of question is that?"

"Absolutely," Courtney replied. "There were burn marks on her temple. My... colleague, Dr. Sui, deduced that they were from an electroshock device. We don't know how Johnson got ahold of one, but our best theory so far is that he used one to fry her brain, to put it in simpler terms."

"Why'd she hesitate before she said the doctor's name?" Pam asked.

"They're fucking," Boze replied, taking a sip of her wine. "She tried so hard to keep that a secret from everyone, but we all knew."

"If that is the case, is there any way to reverse the damage?" the newswoman asked.

"I don't know," the sadness written across Courtney's face was so severe it almost made Boze feel bad for her. Almost. "I only had one session with her. I'd have to spend more time with her before I could deduct an answer to that question. It depends on how long he shocked her for, the voltage he used, and how strong-willed Mari was. But God, do I hope she's still in there. She  _has_  to be."

"Okay, this is boring," Pamick yawned. "Change the channel. Let's see what other news channels are saying on this story."

"Gladly," Boze replied, grabbing the remote. She wasn't in the mood to see Courtney break into tears either.

The bar was alive with sound. At least twenty of her girls were in the many booths, gossiping and making out and all the usual shit they did. It was Freya's turn on bartender duty, and she was rushing around to fill everyone's orders. In other words, it was a usual night.

The next news channel had Mari's parents on it, who both looked even worse than Courtney. You'd think after the third time your daughter was kidnapped, you'd have gotten used to it, but  _no._  There they were, begging _Wes_ to give her back. Idiots. Wes hadn't even been smart enough to break  _himself_  out of that asylum, let alone someone else.

"Next," Pamick slurred.

CNN had one of her least favourite faces on it; Agent Bereta's. Both Pamick and Boze's smiles dropped at the sight of him.

"So you believe that Ericka Bozeman has something to do with Dr. Takashi's disappearance?" a reporter had a microphone dangling near his face.

"Oh, you're  _fucking_ kidding me," Boze grumbled.

"Completely," Agent Bereta replied. "I don't know who else Johnson would be close to who would have enough power to break her out that easily. If the security cameras hadn't been turned off, I guarantee you they would have shown one of the members of her organization."

"Her organization?" the reporter asked.

"Yes, her organization," Bereta replied. "Bozeman has a complicated network of criminals at-"

His voice cut out as Boze turned the T.V off and slammed the remote on the table in anger. 

Great. This was exactly what she needed. Agent Bereta with another excuse to be on her ass. And with Mari's case being the biggest in America at the moment, it would be hard to have her corrupt cops throw his investigation into the water. What a way to ruin her mood.

"So," Pam sighed. "What are we going to do about him?"

Boze sighed. "Well, he's got to die, obviously."

"Of course," Pam nodded. "But how?"

"How many children does he have again?" Boze asked.

"Two, I believe."

"Kidnap both, leave the oldest's body at his doorstep, and keep the other one as ransom."

"Ransom for what cost?"

"Him walking off a building."

"Ooh, that's positively  _primitive._ "

"It's what I do best."

Both of the women laughed at that. See, this was why Boze loved Pam. Almost any of her other girls would've probably felt at least a little bit uncomfortable at the thought of killing a child, but not her. Ah, the joy of being a psychopath.

"I'll start planning that soon," Pam assured her. "But for now, lets drink."

"Amen to that, sister," Boze replied as they tapped their glasses together and downed them. They'd been here for at least an hour, blowing time until Atomic and Psycho returned from their mission.

Five drinks later, the two of them were at the dartboard, getting cheered on by an audience of thirteen women, when Chaos rushed in, her blonde hair flowing behind her as she did.

"They're back," she announced, glee shining in her caramel eyes.

At those words, everyone rushed to their feet and ran into the center of the Compound. There they were, standing in their lab coats. Psycho was covered in blood and smiling. Atomic was standing awkwardly, a full leather bag tucked under her arm.

Boze rushed forwards and kissed both of them on their cheeks. "Spectacular, girls. I knew I could depend on you."

Psycho was practically beaming as she was surrounded by her fellow girls, all of them hugging and congratulating her, as was custom. Boze slung her arm around Atomic's shoulders as Mayhem grabbed her bag to take it to storage.

"Good job," she smiled at the brown-haired woman. "He'd be proud of you."

Atomic seemed to glow at those words. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Boze replied, leading her up the escalator. "You did a great job."

"Thank you!" Atomic smiled. "I really tried hard."

Boze paused for a second. Something about that response rubbed her the wrong way. It was just so... simple, like something a five-year-old would say. 

"Good, good," Boze didn't let her discomfort show on her face. "I knew I could depend on you."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Atomic responded. "I'll never let you down. I promise."

Boze led them into her meeting room, located in an abandoned candy shop. She sat Atomic down in one of the two blue couches and sat in the one opposite her.

"So, how'd it go?" she asked.

"Good!" Atomic replied. "Everything went according to plan."

"Yeah?" Boze replied. "Not a hitch?"

"Nope!" Atomic smiled. "Exactly to plan."

Boze didn't like her enthusiasm.

"So, give me some details," Boze prodded.

"Well," Atomic paused. "The prison was rather ugly. All grey and white. And the prisoners all looked miserable. I can't imagine how Silver must've felt in there..."

The _last_ thing Boze wanted to think about right now was  _Wes._

"It's not that bad," Boze lied. "I'm sure he was fine."

"Well, you saw him, right? When you were both there," Atomic's eyes widened. "Did he look fine?"

"Yeah," Boze lied again.  _Change the topic somehow, Boze._  "Did you find the files okay?"

"Yup!" Atomic replied enthusiastically.

Boze could barely stop herself from rolling her eyes. Mari would've told her to fuck herself at least three times by now. Mari would've held an interesting conversation about the mission, full of details. Mari would've-

"So, did you enjoy yourself?" Boze asked. She shouldn't think about Mari. She should never think about Mari.

"Yeah," Atomic replied. "It was fun!"

Boze couldn't help herself. She could imagine what Mari's response would've been perfectly.  _I mean, besides for the panic that something was going to go wrong, the nervousness as we walked through the halls that we obviously didn't belong in, the terror at seeing some of the country's most dangerous criminals, the ghastly sight that was Psycho murdering all those guards, and the hardship of grabbing all those goddamn files and having to run with them, yeah I had a great time. Wouldn't trade it for a trip to the Carribean._

"That's good," Boze wasn't smiling anymore. She had to end this conversation before Atomic noticed something was wrong. "How about we go to the bar? There's plenty of girls who would  _love_  to meet you."

"Sure!" Atomic replied, jumping out of her chair.

Boze led her down to the bar and showed her inside, before leaning against the wall. That conversation scared her. She'd thought Atomic would be fun, but that? That was far from fun. And she hated that thought. She'd worked so hard to get Atomic. Why couldn't she just enjoy her now that she was here?

"Hey," Psycho had made her way to her side. "Can I talk to you?"

"Shoot," Boze replied. She didn't really want to talk to anyone right now, but she was never one to dismiss one of her girls for no reason. And if Psycho was breaking off from the after-mission celebration, it must be because of something important.

"On the way to the prison, Atomic had acted... unusually," Psycho whispered.

Boze looked at her quizzically. "Define unusually."

"The way she spoke," Psycho shook her head. "It was different. Intelligent. Unlike her. I think... I don't know."

"Don't know what?" Boze asked.

"I think it might have been Mari Takashi shining through," Psycho replied.

Boze's eyes widened. "What?"

"Not entirely," Psycho replied. "Just a bit of her. Whatever's left of her."  
  
"Are you suggesting that Mari isn't dead?" Boze asked. What a thought that was.

"I guess?" Psycho replied. "Because whoever said those words, it wasn't Atomic."

"And Wesley Johnson isn't known for doing things effectively," Boze muttered to herself.

"Yeah," Psycho said awkwardly, fiddling with her fingers. "So, I just thought you should know that."  
  
With those words, she walked off, leaving Boze to her thoughts.

Mari wasn't dead. Not completely. How was that possible? Atomic was so unlike Mari it was ridiculous. And there was no way that Mari was faking it all along. If that were the case, she would've come clean at the asylum.

It was possible, Boze supposed, that she was still hidden somewhere in Atomic's subconscious, tucked away, safe and unused. And that was dangerous. What if Mari somehow overtook Atomic, and ran away? She knew too much. If she went to the authorities and fucked her over as she fucked over Wes the first time, it would cost her  _everything._

No. If Mari was strong enough to do that, she would've done it already. If Mari came back, it was going to have to be after serious therapy, and that wouldn't happen unless Boze wanted it too. And she'd worked so hard to make and get Atomic that that would never happen.

Right?


	7. Atomic

Atomic was getting really tired of these vans.

She was sitting in one identical to the one she'd shared with Psycho, except this time there were more girls. Not that any of them were talking to her. In other words, there was just more noise.

Truth be told, Atomic didn't really know what was happening. Vixen had shoved one of the files she'd taken on her mission, a file that had her face on it, into her arms and ushered her into this van seconds before it took off. In other words, Atomic didn't know  _where_  they were going,  _why_  they were going there, or  _what_  they'd be doing once they got there.

Not that she minded. A little anticipation and curiosity was just what she needed to spice up her day.

Up until this point, all she'd been doing was sticking by Pamick's side, learning a bit more about the Compound and Vixen's organization. She'd met a few of the girls, which had been fun, but Pamick had spent most of the time giving her a rundown of the rules, what was expected of her, and her role as a brawler, which Atomic already knew. It had been _incredibly_  boring.

Not that this van ride was proving to be any different. None of the girls in it were ones that she'd met. She felt isolated and alone, wishing that they'd reach whatever their destination was quickly.

The file in her hands served as a bit of a distraction. It was heavy and bursting with papers, all covered in words and pictures. None of the other girls in the van's files were as big as hers. It had a fading yellow cover, with the words  _Mariko Takahashi_  written in the top lefthand corner. Her deadname.

Something about it scared her. One part of her felt the overwhelming urge to open it, the other a terrible fear. She had a feeling that this was her  _history._  The parts of her history that she'd forgotten.

Atomic knew that parts of her memory were missing. It never bothered her much. She remembered her entire relationship with Silver, which was all that was really important. And she had glimpses of her past; childhood memories of eating snow, her first ballet class, getting dressed up for a date with an unknown person, sitting in the lecture hall of a psychology class, getting hired, watching a movie with Courtney, small things. Like a puzzle with pieces missing. She could collect them, sort them, but never form the whole picture. Somedays, she'd wake up with new memories, and lose old ones. But they were never important ones. She could feel that.

But this file; this file might contain them. That thought was equally tantalizing and terrifying. Because there was a chance that knowing her past might change who she was. And Atomic loved herself exactly the way she was. She was Silver's dream girl. Why would she want to change that?

The van rolled to a stop, breaking off her thoughts. A tall girl with blonde hair and caramel upturned eyes opened the doors. Atomic was the first to jump out.

She found herself in what looked like a campsite. It was a small clearing, surrounded by trees. The only way out was a dirt road, which they had come from. It was empty, besides for a raging bonfire in the middle of the gravel-covered ground, crackling and waving in the night sky. It was a pretty sight, all orange and red and yellow and  _destructive._

Girls had already surrounded it, holding their files, talking and giggling excitedly. Apparently, they got a memo that Atomic hadn't picked up, because all of them seemed to know  _exactly_ what was going on.

Atomic walked up to the bonfire and took her place among the circle of girls. She stood there awkwardly as more vans arrived, bringing more and more girls. Eventually, when there were at least a hundred girls there, Vixen arrived.

She certainly made an entrance. After all the vans arrived, she came speeding down the road on a sleek black motorcycle, dressed in a pristine leather jacket that shone in the firelight. Everyone shut up at the sight of her. Vixen usually had that effect, but she had it even more so here. With her outfit and perfect makeup, she looked like a goddess.

Vixen walked over to the bonfire. Girls practically lept out of the way as she walked forwards. Once she reached the flames, she turned to address everyone.

"Yesterday, two of our girls, Psycho and Atomic, retrieved all of the files we have in our hands," Vixen unclasped a leather bag she had on her right shoulder and pulled out a file of her own, which was far from small. "They stole them from the Los Angeles Correctional Institution. I'm sure that place sounds familiar to all of you."

The sound of a hundred 'yes's filled the air. It reminded Atomic of an Orchestra.

"And many of those files had your names on them. Your pictures, detailing your crimes. Today, we set your records clean!" Vixen shouted. The crowd cheered at her words.

Vixen held her file high in the air. It fluttered in the wind. Atomic was surprised that it didn't blow straight out of her perfectly manicured hand. "Our Techs have already set your records clean electronically, along with any pictures of you we could find. Once we destroy these, as far as the government is concerned, you don't exist!"

Her eyes were shining with far more than firelight at this point. "So, girls... let's burn!"

With those words, everyone starting throwing their files into the fire. A hundred files landed in the bonfire, piling on top of each other as they were consumed by the flames. The girls watched and cheered as the flames licked out their existence, sending the ashes billowing into the air.

Atomic just stood there, caressing the yellow case with her thumbs, inhaling the smoke. It would be easy to throw it. So easy. She could just throw it in and forget she was ever anyone but Atomic. It would be freeing. A true testament to her leaving her old life behind completely. It was what Silver would have wanted; she knew that in her heart. He would've been so proud of her if he was here to see her throw it in.

But something in her made her grasp on to the paper like her life depended on it. Her instincts were begging her to keep it, to hold it close to her and run. But her brain was sending her a completely different message, and as the two sides fought, she just stood, watching everyone else make the decision that should have been easy, watching their papers go up in smoke.

Then she felt searing eyes on her, and found herself staring right into Vixen's eyes. The shorter girl was leaning against her motorcycle, staring at her intently. She looked at the file in her hands and back up at her, raising her eyebrows. Somehow, Atomic got the message.

After that exchange, the file went flying out of her hands before she even had time to think about it. She watched it soar into the flames and watched as they covered it, turning the yellows and whites of the pages black, making the ink of her photos melt and crispen until they were unrecognizable. She watched and watched as  _Mariko Takahashi_  was consumed with blackness.

For once, her brain was silent. She felt nothing as she watched it burn. The rest of the world faded, until all she could hear was the crackling of the fire, and all she could see was the smouldering file. For a few seconds, she was at peace.

Then someone bumped into her shoulder, shocking her back into reality. Girls were piling back into the vans while a few of them put the fire out. She slowly made her way to the van, breathing heavily. Relief and sadness washed over her in waves, going back and forth like a yo-yo, and she hated it.

Nothing like this had _ever_ happened to her when she was with Silver. He had been her rock. All she had ever felt around him was joy and tranquillity. There had never been any urge to know her past, any complicated emotions, any anything. Just complete happiness and a confidence in who she was. Now that he was gone, she'd lost all of those things. And she would do anything to get them back. To get  _him_  back.

As she sat down on the hard bench of the van, she fought the urge to cry.  _Oh, Silver. If only I'd been there to protect you._

The van rolled to a start, rocking over the uneven ground. She leaned against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. Her hands felt empty without the file.

This time, the ride seemed to take twice as long. When they finally rolled to a stop, Atomic couldn't have been happier. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and-

A window rolled down on the wall leading to the driver's seat that blended in so perfectly that Atomic hadn't even noticed it was there. Looking through was the panicked face of their driver. All Atomic had to do was take on look at the road behind her to know that they weren't at the Compound.

"Chaos, what's happening?" a short black-haired girl asked.

"Text from boss," the driver, who Atomic assumed was Chaos, answered. "She told me to stop. I don't know-"

At that moment, an alarm sounded. It stunned her for a few seconds as the room started flashing red. All of the girls pulled out their phones, which were buzzing wildly in their hands.

"Holy shit," the girl sitting next to Atomic muttered as she stared at her phone screen.

Chaos rolled up the window. Seconds later, Atomic heard the rev of an engine, and felt them speeding down the road. If she had to guess, they were going back to the Compound for safety.

All of the girls had started panicking. Some had pulled out weapons; guns, knives, even a taser or two. Others buried their heads in their hands. A few stood completely still, shock written on their faces.

"What's happening?" she asked the girl sitting next to her, having to yell for her to hear her. She hated not having a phone. It made her feel like she was out of the loop and uninformed.

The girl looked at her with wide brown eyes and swept some of her dreadlocks out of her face. Instead of responding with words, she showed Atomic her phone screen.

The screen was flashing red. On it were eight bold, white letters, which screamed at her just as much as the sirens blaring out of the phone's speakers were. CODE RED: RETURN IMMEDIATELY TO COMPOUND. EXTREME DANGER.

"What does that mean?" Atomic asked the girl. She had a sinking feeling that she already knew, but oh, did she desperately hope she was wrong.

"We're under attack," she responded in a thick Jamaican accent that was even thicker with worry. "Something must have happened to one of the other vans."

Atomic's eyes widened. Pamick was on one of those vans. All the girls she'd met today had been on one of those vans. If something happened to any of them... she couldn't imagine it. She couldn't imagine ever losing anyone ever, ever again.

"All we can do is cross our fingers or pray," the girl remarked. Atomic nodded in agreement.

The rest of the ride to the Compound was silent beside for the sobs, screams, and prayers of the twenty girls in the van as it sped down roads at a speed that was far from safe. It was chaos, a bubbling pit of worry and anxiety and fear that had overflowed long ago, drowning everyone surrounding it.

Atomic didn't make a sound.


	8. Boze

Boze was pissed. Or, at least, that's what she told herself the feeling bubbling up inside her was. Because there was absolutely no way that she was scared. She wouldn't  _let_  herself be.

The panic call had come suddenly. Thankfully, Boze had felt her phone buzz in her pocket, as she didn't hear the sound of the alarm over the wind, and pulled over to take it out. She'd had Virus and the other techs construct an intricate panic system a few months earlier, to make sure that if anyone was ever attacked or experienced some other emergency, the rest of the girls would be able to know instantly. All you had to do was press a few buttons in an app and an alert would be sent to her. From there, she'd decide what the best course of action was.

Her screen was white, and had four sentences written on it in stark black letters:  _Alert sent from Siren's phone. Cause of alert; attack. High danger. Do not send other girls._

Boze quickly opened her phone and sent out a return alert to the rest of the girls, before pulling up a map to track down Siren's location. She didn't care how dangerous the situation was. If someone messed with her girls, they messed with her. And messing with Boze was the biggest mistake you could ever make.

The blonde and the van she'd been driving weren't too far away; less than a mile, and they weren't moving. Boze twisted the handlebar of her bike and sped off towards them. She passed a few other vans on her way there, but she paid them no attention. They weren't the ones that needed it.

Quickly, she arrived at her destination. She swerved to the side and threw off her helmet, jumping off her bike so she could access the situation.

Right next to the road was her van, lying on its side, a charred hole where one of its wheels should have been. A few motorcycles surrounded it, all empty except for one, who had an obviously male person sitting on it. Without hesitation, Boze pulled out her gun and shot him in the head.

That alerted his accomplices. From around the van came four more men, none of them wearing helmets. They were all young, no older than twenty, white, and clean-shaven. Boze felt like she recognized a few of them, but she didn't know from  _where._

One of them came running at her, but she shot him in the head before he could come anywhere close to her. The next two didn't even have a chance to draw their guns before they earned a bullet between their eyes. She shot the last one in the leg. He cried as he fell, his gun flying out of his hand.

She stormed up to him and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him clear of the ground. "Who sent you?"

The man didn't respond, staring at her defiantly. It was obvious that he wasn't going to speak. Not without a little persuasion.

Boze lowered him a bit, just so she could dig her heel into his bullet wound. Then she lifted him up again, making sure he felt every inch of the pain. He screamed beautifully and writhed in her grip, trying to free himself. It was beautiful to watch.

"Who sent you?" she repeated demandingly, spitting the words at him like poison.

Still, the man didn't speak. She had to admire his determination. It took a lot of strength to bear that much pain.

Unfortunately for him, she was just getting started.

She pointed her gun at his leg, just above his first wound, and shot again. Then she repeated the action, shooting circle upon circle into his flesh, leading up to his hips. Once he was bleeding enough that his blood was going straight through his pants and staining the concrete below them, she pressed her entire foot on all of his bullet wounds, putting all of her weight down on him, making the bullets dig even farther into his body. Once she heard a loud crack, she brought her face down to his.

"Who. Sent. You?" she asked sternly, staring the man straight in the eyes.

He had screamed so much by now that he barely had the breath to speak. She was lucky that they were in a secluded area; if they had been in the city, someone would've heard them long ago.

"Blade," he managed to squeak out, tears running down his face. "It was Blade. He sent us."

"Good boy," she snarled, raising her gun to his forehead and firing. As she walked away from his corpse, she left a few bloody footprints.

Instantly, she rushed to the van. The doors to the back were already opened. Her girls never left. Some of them had been killed by the crash and slumped against the wall, their necks bent at unnatural angles. The mass majority of them, however, had been murdered. Bulletholes covered their bodies, and the walls were painted red with their blood to the point where you could barely see the grey anymore. Their bodies had piled on top of each other, forming a hill of carnage

Those bastards must've torn open the doors and just started firing. Her girls had had no escape, and seeing as it was a casual day trip, none of them had brought any of their weapons. They hadn't been given a fair fight; instead, they had been given a bloodbath.

Boze's blood boiled. The more she stared at the wreckage, the more her rage grew.

This had been Blade's doing. Oh boy, was he going to be  _sorry._ She was going to make him feel the pain of each and every one of her girls that he'd killed tenfold. He was going to regret being born by the time she was done with him. She was going to-

"Vixen?"

The voice was faint and weak, so much so that Boze barely heard it over the blood pounding in her ears. Yet she did, and instantly looked around the van. Had one of her girls survived?

 _Oh God, please let that be so._  Boze was a psychopath; she didn't feel grief, but seeing all these dead girls, all these wasted opportunities and chances, was as close as she would probably ever come to it.

"Hello?" she shouted. "Is someone there?"

"Vixen!" the voice was stronger this time, and followed by a coughing fit. Vixen had heard that voice enough to recognize it almost instantly.

"Siren!" she called, running to the driver's section of the van. The windshield was broken, and when she looked inside, she saw her; Siren.

The blonde-haired woman looked terrible. Her left eye was black, and some sort of red liquid ran down her chin, though Boze couldn't tell if it was lipstick or blood. She wheezed every time she breathed, and Boze could see one of her ribs poking out through her skin. There was a large bump on her head, one that would most definitely give her a concussion, and she looked like she was about to drift out of consciousness any second now.

"I'm going to get you out," Boze declared. "Sit tight."

Her second statement was useless, seeing as there was no possible way that Siren could go anywhere alone, but she said it anyway. 

Boze took a couple steps back and ran toward the van, jumping right before she crashed into it, and caught on to the top. She pulled herself up quickly and walked across the top to the passenger's door, wrenching it open. Then she climbed into the driver's section and hooked her arms under Siren's, pulling her out towards the way they came. Siren groaned in pain, but Boze forced herself to ignore it; there was no way that she would be able to get her out without hurting her.

She managed to pull the other woman onto the side of the van (those workouts in prison had really paid off) and laid her down in front of her.

Siren looked even worse up close. There was a metal pipe sticking through her leg that Boze hadn't been able to see from outside, and when she took off her shirt to try and use it to stop the bleeding, it soaked through instantly. 

It was as clear as day; she wasn't going to survive this. Both of them knew it. But Boze didn't want to admit it, and kept applying pressure to the wound, as if that would solve anything.

Siren was one of Boze's favourite girls. She had come from a family similar to her's; broken and abusive, fatherless. She'd always obeyed orders without question, a trait Boze loved to see, and could keep up an interesting, convoluted, twisted conversation that would horrify even other girls. She could always be trusted to get the job done fast and well. Siren was loyal, strong, smart, and great in bed. It was why she had been one of the few girls she'd trusted to help her with Wes; she trusted her.

There was no way she could die. She couldn't. Boze wouldn't  _let_ her.

"Vixen," Siren brought her hand up to her cheek. She wasn't strong enough to keep it there, so when her arm started to droop, Boze grabbed her hand and pressed it back to where it had been with her palm. 

"You're not going to die, Siren," they were empty words, and both of them knew it, no matter how much Boze desperately wished that she could believe them.

"Vixen," Siren said sternly. "My name-"

Another coughing fit hit her, cutting herself off. After she was done, she looked like she was in even more pain than before. "My name is Bella. Bella Oak."

Boze already knew that, of course. She knew the name of every woman in the Compound. But names were a powerful thing amongst her girls. No one never used their birth names. It was everyone's most closely held secret. You only told it to people you trusted with your life, who you had the utmost respect for. Telling someone your name was like sharing a piece of yourself with them. It was a great honour.

The sentiment was not wasted on Boze, who smiled and pressed her hand closer to her cheek. "I'm Ericka Bozeman."

Siren smiled and nodded, tears forming in her eyes. Boze leaned forwards and kissed her forehead, before resting their foreheads together. A few seconds later, she felt Siren's hand go limp in her's, and stopped hearing the painful wheezing that her breaths had entailed.

For a few seconds, Boze didn't move. She didn't feel like she could. Then the reality of the situation kicked in, and she screamed.

It was a loud scream, one full of rage and pain that exhausted her lungs. She screamed until she couldn't scream anymore, and then she picked up Siren's body and hugged it close to her torso, burying her face in Siren's shoulder.

Blade had done this. Blade had taken her from Boze. Blade had killed over twenty of her girls. This was all his doing, his fault.

Boze's eyes narrowed as she started rocking, a plan already starting to form in her mind. Siren's blood had started to soak through her jacket, but she was too caught up in her thoughts of revenge to care.

He'd betrayed her. After everything she'd done for him, he'd betrayed her. He probably felt threatened by her; if there was one thing Blade hated, it wasn't being the Alpha. She had taken his place, and he hadn't been ready to accept that. He never would've been able to.

But if he thought that he could take her down, then he was even more deluded that Wes had been. She was going to play his little game. And she was going to win it.

 _Watch out, Anthony,_  she thought.  _I'm coming for you._


	9. Atomic

This funeral was nothing like Silver's had been.

There was no music, no party, no food, no yacht. Instead, they were in the middle of a forest; or, rather, what had once been a forest, and had been ravaged by one of the many forest fires over the last two years. Atomic didn't know which one it had been, but she was sure that it had been recent, as the ash hadn't blown away. Whenever you took a step, you could feel your foot sink into it.

It wasn't exactly the prettiest place in the world. Atomic didn't know why Vixen chose here, of all places. This certainly wasn't the kind of place she'd want to be put to rest in. When she bit the dust, she wanted a grandiose party for her funeral, with dancing and punch and techno music. And streamers! Lots and lots of streamers!

But that wasn't Vixen's aesthetic, apparently, so here they were, surrounded by death. She could almost feel the negative energy the place radiated.

Maybe that was why Vixen had chosen it. An entire forest taken before its time. Just like her girls.

There were twenty-three funeral pyres, one for each girl that had been taken. A corpse lay on every one, dressed in fancy clothes, either a suit or a dress depending on the way they'd dressed when they were alive. Some of them had flowers woven through their hair. Resting on their chests were their favourite weapons; Atomic spotted a few guns, knives, and even a longsword. They had all been doused with gasoline, which you could smell clearly over the weak wind.

Surrounding the pyres were the rest of the girls. All of them had black veils covering their faces to show their mourning. Most of them were crying, and were going up to touch the bodies of their friends, to say goodbye one last time. Atomic watched awkwardly, feeling quite warm in her veil. She hadn't known any of the girls that were killed, after all, and didn't feel any grief for any of them.

Except for one. A blonde girl laid on one of the pyres. She was skinny and curvy, and was dressed in a leather jacket, a tight white tank top, black ripped skinny jeans, black sunglasses, and black pumps. For some reason, she was the only girl dressed in the standard outfit that girls wore on missions; she must've been very devoted to her work. Her lips were painted as red as blood, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

The longer Atomic stared at her, the more she felt familiar. She had definitely seen that girl before, and not just in passing in the Compound. 

A memory came into her mind. She was looking out a window, watching as a sleek black sports car pulled up in front of a familiar-looking yard. The blonde girl got out of the driver's door and started walking up the path, towards the house she was in.

Atomic blinked, and then it was gone, slipping through her fingers back into the chasms of her mind, most likely to never return. She tried to fish it back out, but it was no use, and she eventually gave up.

Standing above the blonde girl was Vixen. Atomic had never seen her look so angry. There was rage burning in her eyes, and her jaw was clenched. She was wearing a blood-stained leather jacket and jeans. In her hand was a torch, already alight, its orange glow the only light source in the area.

She looked terrifying.

"Girls!" Vixen screamed, raising the torch. Everyone went silent, besides for the sounds of the sobs. "Yesterday, we were attacked by  _cowards._  Useless men who were too  _weak_ to even let us fight back, sent by a man who wasn't strong enough to even do the deed himself. They took our sisters from us. And for that, they will pay with their _lives._ "

A roar of anger erupted from the crowd of girls. You could hear the pain in their voices. Whoever these men were, Atomic would not want to be them.

"But for now, let us mourn," Vixen announced. "Mourn those who were lost. And then we shall strike with everything we have!"  
  
Her words were met with another loud cheer from the girls. Atomic joined them, throwing her fist in the air. She might not have been friends with any of the lost girls, but she understood what their deaths meant. It was an insult against Vixen and all the other girls. And Atomic was one of those girls.

Vixen walked over to the first pyre, which had an olive-skinned girl with long straight black hair resting on it. She would've looked almost peaceful if it hadn't been for the bullet hole in her head. "Witch. Tech. One year."

Name. Job. Amount of time as one of her girls. Every girl lowered their head as Vixen brought the torch down, setting Witch's pyre alight, before moving onto the next girl.

The cycle repeated as Vixen went from girl to girl. When she reached the blonde girl, her voice hitched, and she had to take a moment to collect herself. "Siren. Transportation. Six years."

The memory hit Atomic so hard that she physically had to take a step back, making all the girls surrounding her look at her strangely. She almost dropped to her knees from the intensity of it. Out of all her memories, none of them had been this vivid or intense.

_A hand cups her cheek, and she bats it away. The blonde girl laughs and taunts her, quickly blinking. Then Silver leaves the room and her entire demeanour changes._

_A grim expression framed on her beautiful face. Dark eyes. Whispered, hurried words. "You are in grave danger. Silver is insane and misogynistic. He doesn't care about you. If you need out, Vixen will help you."_

_She shoves a business card into Atomic's hand, which she shoves in her pocket._

_Then Silver comes around the corner, and the girl steps back, switching back into the role of a seductress as he narrows his eyes._

This memory doesn't go away. It cements itself in her mind, and even when she tries to shake it, to bury it, it stays right where it is. Atomic felt like screaming.

They were lies. They had to be! Silver wasn't sexist. He had been nothing but respectful and loving to her. And there was no way in Hell that he didn't care about her. He had loved her more than anything in the world. He'd told her that himself, many times, as they relaxed in bed.

But what did the blonde girl, Siren, have to gain from lying to her? When had she even had the opportunity to tell her that? No girls had visited her during her time with Silver. At least, she didn't  _think_  that any of them had.

As she watched Siren's body burned and her flesh melted off her bones, she wished that the memory would disappear with it.

• • •

When they got back to the Compound, Atomic made a beeline towards her bed. She was tired, and she hoped that with some sleep, the memory would disappear, replaced with some sugar-sweet one of her and Silver, having some mundane conversation in bed that she could mull over. 

"M- Atomic!" Vixen called as she got out of the van, breaking her plan. "Can I talk to you for a bit?"  
  
Atomic felt like saying no, but here, when Vixen told you to do something, no wasn't an option. As she followed the shorter girl up into the Compound, she didn't even think about the slip-up Vixen had made when she addressed her. She was too disconnected from reality too.

Vixen led her to the left wing of the ground floor, and too what looked like an abandoned candy store, which Atomic recognized from her tour with Pamick as the meeting room. Vixen closed the door behind him and gestured at one of the two blue couches that made up the only furniture in the colourful room besides for a small table that had a wine bottle and glass resting on it. Atomic sat down, and Vixen sat down across from her.

"What did she want to talk about?" she asked as Vixen poured herself a glass of wine.

"It's about Silver," Vixen replied, taking a sip.

"What about him?" Atomic asked, leaning forward eagerly. If it had anything to do with Silver, then she wanted to hear it.

"It- it was Blade, Atomic," Vixen paused for a few seconds until a tear appeared in her eye. "Blade was the one who killed him."

Atomic's jaw dropped. "What?"  
  
"He was mad at him," Vixen replied as tears ran down her cheeks. Mari would've been able to recognize them as crocodile tears. But Mari wasn't here. "And decided to take his revenge."

"Why was he mad?" Atomic asked as a few tears of her own formed in her eyes.

"There was a girl, a while back," Vixen explained. "Blade's well known for being a womanizer, so Silver thought that he wouldn't care very much if he killed her. It wouldn't have been the first, after all. Unbeknownst to him, though, was the fact that Blade cared deeply for that girl. As a psychopath, Blade can't truly love, of course, but that girl was the closest he'd ever gotten. So when Silver killed her... well, he wasn't happy, to say the least."

"But Silver helped Blade!" Atomic cried. "That was the mission I went on with him! We killed everyone in his bar!"

"I assume it was an attempt to repair their relationship on Silver's part," Vixen replied. "It wasn't enough, apparently."  
  
Tears ran down Atomic's cheeks. She couldn't believe it. After everything Silver had done for him, Blade had stabbed him in the back. Blade had thought that he had the right to take him from her. Blade had held a gun to Silver's head and fired. Blade had  _killed_ him!

Her sadness slowly dissipated, replaced with so much rage that she began to shake. Oh, the things she was going to do when she found that bastard that went by the name of Blade. She was going to tear him apart.

"I think that's why he attacked us," Vixen stated. "He knows that I have you, and he knows how much you meant to Silver. He's still trying to get his revenge, even now."  
  
"Are you saying that he wants to get to me?" Atomic croaked out through her tears.

"Yes," Vixen nodded. "Which is why we need to get to him first."

It was a massive lie, of course. There had never been any girl; the only person Blade had ever cared about was himself. He couldn't come close to loving anyone, even for a psychopath. The real reason he had attacked Vixen was because he knew that she was the one with the power now, not him. But pinning the blame of Silver's death on him would not only make Atomic more eager during the mission, but also guarantee that Atomic never figured out about the  _real_  circumstances of Silver's death. Vixen was killing two birds with one stone here.

"Do you have a plan?" Atomic asked, already invested. If Vixen needed her help, then she was going to provide it without question. She was going to avenge the man she'd loved; no matter what it took.

"Of course," Vixen replied, taking another sip of her wine. "But I'll need you."

"I'm in," Atomic shouted instantly, causing a smile to form on Vixen's face. She poured her another glass of wine, which Atomic took and downed almost immediately, her heart pounding a mile a minute.

She'd been dreaming of avenging Silver since the second she'd learned of his death. And now, the opportunity to do so had finally appeared. She could barely contain her excitement as her mind ran wild, imagining all the things she would do to Blade, things so twisted that she doubted even Vixen could come up with them.

Blade had angered two of the most dangerous women in America. Nothing could save him now.


	10. Boze

Boze is sitting in the back of the truck with four other girls; Barbie, Psycho, Wrath, and, of course, Atomic, her bow and quiver resting on her shoulders. Rebel was driving them and had the screen down, giving them a clear view of her cherry-red hair.

Barbie had the map spread out on her lap, and the other four women crowded around her as she points out certain rooms, describing Bla- Anthony's defences. Boze really has to get better at that. In her world, using someone's real name instead of their street name without their permission is the greatest insult you can throw their way, and Anthony doesn't deserve an ounce of her respect.

"This is where I'll be taking him to," Barbie explains, pointing to the room on the map. A path has already been drawn through the floorplan in red ink, instructing exactly what route to take to get to him. "It's his room. He takes all his lovers there."

"And you're sure he'll be there?" Boze asks, raising her eyebrow.

"Yes," Barbie replies. "He already knows I'm coming, and I'm his favourite. He won't leave me waiting."

"But he knows that you're one of Vixen's girls," Psycho pointed out. "Why would he trust you?"

"As far as he knows, I hate all of you," Barbie replied, flicking her short wavy blonde hair behind her shoulder. "It was part of my plan to seduce him. Tell him that I think he's far stronger and smarter than Vixen, more worthy of leadership and power. I know men like him, and there's nothing they like more than getting their egos stroked."

"He thinks you love him, doesn't he?" Psycho asked with a grin.

"Just because he's an idiot," Barbie scoffs. "Like I ever would love a man like him."

Before anyone can respond, the truck rolls to a stop, and Rebel turns to look at them. "We're here."

"Wish me luck, everyone," Barbie says as she throws the doors on the back of the truck open and jumps out. They all watch through the front window as she walks through the darkness up to Anthony's house.

Well, house didn't really describe it. Because Anthony lived in a mansion. Not just a small one; a gigantic one, like if two mansions had a baby together and then mutated it with a castle. Boze had no idea how Barbie had been able to map out the entire floorplan without going insane.

"Woah," Psycho remarked as she stared at the building. Boze wasn't surprised. Psycho had always been a sucker for luxury. She could see parts of Anthony in her. Those were the parts she didn't like.

Barbie made her way through the massive garden and to the door, where a butler let her in. Everywhere you looked, you saw guards; in the gardens, outside the door, through the windows. Barbie had gotten ahold of their schedule, thankfully, which Boze was studying now as Psycho and Atomic watched her in quiet anticipation.

Atomic had been uncharacteristically silent so far. Boze didn't know if she was too wrapped up in the mission, depressed, or what, but none of the vibrant, bubbly, trusting girl that Wes (and Boze herself) had moulded her into shone through, replaced with a grim-faced woman that seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation. It was almost as if she had Mari back.

Almost, but not quite. Because Mari would've told her she was stupid at least twice by now and made at least ten helpful contributions to the mission planning. Probably would've roasted the Hell out of Anthony while she was at.

Boze checked her watch. 9:48. Guard rotation. "Let's go."

The four women slipped out of the truck and crept into the gardens. They had around two minutes before the new guards got to their positions. Seeing as the tall bushes and flowers kept them concealed from view from anyone looking through a window, they managed to make their way through the entire garden unnoticed.

Once they emerged on the other side, they crouched and waited. The new guards were making their way outside, taking their positions around the garden. Boze had tactically picked their position to be completely out of their view. It was a blind spot that Anthony had decided was too difficult for anyone to get too to be of any trouble.

Rule one of protection; never leave a blind spot. If he hadn't, maybe he would've been able to keep his life.

It took a few minutes for all the guards to settle in their new positions. Even after they stopped moving, Boze gave them two minutes, just to be safe. Then she gave Atomic the signal.

The purple-haired woman pushed past her three companions and to the edge of the garden. Boze had let her wear the outfit Wes had designed for her, so she stuck out pretty nicely against the hedge. Thankfully, no one was looking.

She drew an arrow from her quiver and nocked it, pulling the drawstring back slowly and soundlessly. Boze watched as she aimed, making sure she had a good shot, and let the arrow fly.

Faintly, Boze heard a squelch, meaning that it had hit its mark in one of the guards outside the door's neck, and the thud of his body hitting the ground. Atomic didn't line up her next shot as much (she didn't have as much time) but Boze knew from the lack of a scream that she'd killed the other guard.

Wrath and Psycho rushed forwards and grabbed their bodies, dragging them into the bushes before quickly undressing them and changing into their outfits. Guns in hand, they rushed back out and took their places. Up close, you'd be able to tell that they were women, which none of Anthony's guards were, but from a distance, you wouldn't be able to tell that anything was out of the ordinary, which was all that they needed.

Atomic slung her bow back over her shoulder, and the two women walked up to the door and let themselves in.

"Who are y-" the butler, a shorter man with black hair, began to ask, but his face paled as soon as he saw Boze's face. All he got for an answer was a knife to the neck.

Boze waited for an alarm, but none came. Good. That meant that Barbie had already taken out the men watching the security cameras and gotten back to Anthony fast enough to be able to claim it was a bathroom break.

She pulled out the map and laid it on the ground. For a handwritten map, it was surprisingly neat. There were no guards coming through here for around five minutes, so they had some time. She mapped out their route before folding it back up and shoving it in her pocket.

Atomic followed her as she headed up the stairs. Anthony's bedroom was on the fifth floor, the highest point in the building. They had a little while to go to reach him even if you factored out the turns they took to avoid guards.

As they made their way through the mansion, Boze couldn't stop herself from being amazed. She knew that Anthony was rich, but this? This was just ridiculous. Each room looked more expensive than the rest. She wouldn't be surprised if Anthony had gone straight-up MC Hammer with golden toilets and the like. As they passed their third diamond chandelier, that suspicion became even more firmly implanted in her mind.

Despite herself, she felt jealousy bubble up inside her. When you know what its like to go to bed hungry and grow up in a family living by paycheck-to-paycheck, its hard not to. Then, of course, came the anger, for the exact same reason. What had he done to deserve this? He hadn't even achieved the American dream; all he'd done was kill the descendants of those who had.

They arrived in a dining room. Beyond it was the third flight of stairs, but there were two guards outside it. They would be the first ones they'd have to handle since coming inside.

"You ready?" Boze asked her companion, picking a knife out of the many she had attached to her belt and palming it.

Atomic, who had already shrugged her bow off her shoulder and nocked it, nodded.

Boze counted down with her fingers before throwing the door open. Before the guards even had enough time to raise their guns, they attacked. Boze threw her knife into the first one's neck, and the second one found an arrow in his eye. The two women went to collect their weapons and nodded at each other in admiration.

That was when Boze saw it. Fleetingly, in Atomic's eyes, she saw Mari. She didn't know how, she didn't know why, but she did. It was gone almost as quickly as it was there, but it shocked her enough to make her freeze in place, earning her a queer look from Atomic.

She quickly shook herself and started walking up the stairs. She could think about that later. Right now, she needed to focus on the mission.

They made it to the fourth staircase with no more conflicts, and then they were on the fifth. Boze didn't even need to pull out the map; she could hear Barbie's voice through the walls, low and seductive.

Barbie didn't mind having sex, even with people she didn't like. She didn't think that it was that big of a deal. Boze didn't know how or why, but she wasn't complaining; it made Barbie much more effective on missions. The only reason she was trying to postpone the act right now was because she didn't want to get walked in on; having your boss see you naked was embarrassing, even for her.

Boze and Atomic followed the voices. It wasn't a long walk to Anthony's bedroom; the staircase was already near a window, and there would be no point in having his bedroom be in the middle of the floor.

His door was guarded by two guards. That must be a fun job to have; waiting outside, listening as your boss had sex. She'd never do that to one her girls. The only time any of them had to listen to her having sex was when they were the one she was having sex with.

She almost felt bad when they killed them. Almost.

Atomic and her shared and a glance and nodded. Then Boze kicked the door in.

Anthony's room was the prettiest in the entire house. Only two of the walls were made of wood; the other two were rounded and made of glass, as was the ceiling, making the room look like a bubble. His bed was on a raised platform close to the farthest point and surrounded by a small canal of water, cut into the floor, which circled around the room. A diamond chandelier hung from the ceiling, and beautiful paintings covered the wall, along with the biggest flat-screen T.V Boze had ever seen. A large desk was pushed against the left wall and had three computers resting on it. In the corner was a Dance-Dance Revolution machine, which insulted her, because that was her favourite game and did not deserve to be slandered by being in the same room as him.

Anthony was lying in his bed, Barbie at his side, thankfully fully-clothed. He sat up to at the sight of them. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. "Miel, what-"

Barbie pulled her taster out of her pocket and stabbed him in the side. His body jolted for a few seconds as the current ran through him. Then he collapsed onto the ground, drooling. Barbie dropped the taser on top of him.

"Took you long enough," she sighed as she climbed out of the bed and stretched. "If you had been any later you might have walked in on something that would've traumatized you for life."

She squeezed Atomic's cheek with those words as if she were her grandmother. Boze had to admit; it was funny to see the look of confusion on Atomic's face. Sometimes, it truly did seem like she had the mind of a child.

"I've looked at this motherfucker's face long enough," Barbie sighed as she walked over to Anthony, kicking his unconscious form in the side. "Let's get him out of here, shall we?"


	11. Atomic

"Atomic, take his legs," Vixen instructed. "I'll take his head."

She nodded and did what Vixen asked, walking over to the only male in the room and grabbing his legs. He wasn't super heavy; she probably would've been able to carry him alone for at least half the distance if she took a few breaks. But they didn't have time for breaks, so Vixen grabbed his feet, and together, they lifted him clear off the ground.

Barbie held the door open for them. They walked out, stepping over the corpses of the guards they'd killed as they made their way to the staircase. Barbie took one of Vixen's knives so they'd have some form of protection if they got in a jam.

They followed the same route out as they'd taken in. Still, Atomic was amazed at how luxurious the place was. Add a bit more colour, and this would be her dream home. If Heaven did exist, and God for some reason let her go there, she imagined that her home would look something like this.

Psycho and Wrath were waiting for them outside. Now that they didn't need to sneak around, they didn't bother to creep through the garden. Vixen grabbed Blade's entire body, slinging it over her shoulder, and they started running back towards the van, having her two fellow brawlers shoot every guard they encountered.

Somehow, they all made it to the truck uninjured. Vixen threw Blade in, and he hit the wall with a loud smack that could not have felt good. Then the five women all climbed in and slammed the doors shut just in time for some bullets to dent in the metal behind them.

Their red-haired driver (what was her name again? Red? Reality?) slammed her foot on the gas, and then they were off, speeding away from the mansion as fast as they could go. The five women all sat down, breathing heavily.

"Good job, girls," Vixen congratulated them, a smile on her face.

"Right back at ya, Vix," Psycho replied, letting her platinum hair fall out of her cap and tumble back over her shoulders. Atomic hated that hair. It was the same colour that Silver's had been, and she couldn't look at it without feeling a stab of pain and longing in her chest.

Wrath grabbed some rope from the corner and started getting to work, tying Blade up. The chances of him waking up anytime soon were slim to zero, but there was no downside to being careful.

For the entire ride back, Atomic stared at Blade's body. He had a black eye from when Vixen had thrown him at the wall, and his veins were popping. In the state he was in now, it was hard to believe that he was the same man who had killed Silver.

But he was. And he was here, lying at her feet, utterly defenceless, as they drove him towards his death. Atomic smiled at the thought. He deserved no less.

She kicked him for good measure. His body jostled at the contact, but he didn't stir. She almost wished that he would, just so he could feel the pain of her kicks.

After around twenty minutes, they arrived at the Compound. Their blue-eyed driver who Atomic could still not name opened the door for them, grinning.

"Good job, guys," her voice was higher than Atomic had been expecting it to be. She sounded like Ariana Grande if she were sick.

"Thanks, Rebel," Psycho replied, fist-bumping the redhead on her way out.  _Rebel._  What a simple name. Why any of Vixen's girls would go with a name that you could find on a birth certificate that didn't belong to a celebrity's child, Atomic couldn't tell you.

The parking lot is deserted, aside from all the trucks Vixen owned and some of the delivery girls, organizing packages. Atomic ignored them and followed the rest of the team up to the sleeping quarters. The mission had left her exhausted.

As soon as she hit her bed, she dozed off, excited for the day to come.

• • •

"Are you ready?"

The girl she'd met on the truck during the emergency, a fixer named Secure, asked her. Fixers were the ones who built and repaired everything, from buildings to cars to windows. She was sitting on a bed opposite Atomic, fiddling with a metal contraption.

Atomic ran her fingers over her bow. She was wearing the outfit Silver designed for her. It was an appropriate ensemble for what she's about to do.

"I guess," she replied, standing up and slinging her quiver over her shoulder.

Secure fished something out of her pocket. It was an arrow, but right above the head was what looks like tightly-woven dry hay. She handed it to her.

"What is this?" Atomic asked.

"It's a surprise," Secure replied with a smile. "Trust me; you'll like it."

Her love for surprises outweighed her curiosity, so she didn't ask any more questions. Secure stood up, and she followed her out of the sleeping quarters.

They walked towards the center of the Compound. All the lights are off, so its a bit hard to get there, but they managed.

By the time they arrived, it seemed like all the other girls in the Compound were there, sitting in perfect rows of foldable chairs. Secure went to join them as Atomic took her place in front of the stage. Next to her, a metal basket held a flaming torch.

Everyone waited in excitement. Behind her was a flurry of whispered voices. She wasn't the only one getting revenge tonight, after all. They all are.

As she waited, Atomic stared at the wooden make-shift stage in front of her. There were only three constructions on it. One was a wooden block, covered in dried blood. Next to it is a raised platform with stairs leading up to it and a trapdoor embedded in its ground. Above the platform was a wooden structure forming an upside-down L, and attached to the arm of it is a rope formed into a loop. Finally, there is a simple pole, wrapped in chains.

Vixen gave her a rundown of what was going to happen today, so combined with what Pamick had told her during her tour, Atomic already knew what the constructions on the stage were used for; executions. Even without the explanations, however, she probably would've been able to figure it out.

After a few minutes of waiting, the sound of screams could be heard from the left, silencing everyone. They aren't screams of pain. No; these are screams of anger.

A few seconds later, Vixen arrives on the balcony, followed by Wrath and Pyscho, who were carrying a squirming Blade between them. He was screaming every profanity he knew at them, demanding that they release him, but they paid him no mind. Vixen stopped above the stage, curling her fingers over the railing as she looks down upon everyone, as Wrath and Psycho carry Blade down the broken escalator and onto the ground floor.

They dragged him onto the stage and to the pole. Wrath slided his tied wrists over the pole as Psycho held him down before wrapping the chains around him. By the time they were done, he had no chance of escaping. 

That didn't stop him from trying, however. Psycho and Wrath stepped back as he started to wiggle against his restraints, anger written clearly on his face. As he struggled, he spotted Barbie, who was sitting in the front row next to Mayhem.

"Miel!" he pleaded. You can see in his eyes that reality has finally settled in; he knows that he's not getting out of this alive. "Meil, please, help-"

Wrath knocked him in the back of his head with all her strength, which would be enough to shut anyone up, including him. He slumped forward, and Vixen takes this moment of silence to speak.

"Anthony Padilla," she announces, anger coursing through her words like water in a river. "I once considered you an acquaintance. A friend. I trusted you. I thought that you were one of the better ones in our world. Obviously, I was wrong."

Blade opened his mouth as if to respond, but there was a still dazed look on his face from Wrath's hit, and all that comes out is drool.

"You attacked me," Vixen shouted. "On your orders, four of your men killed twenty-four of my girls brutally. You were too much of a coward to even let them fight back. Even for our standards, you committed a monstrous act."

He seemed to have gained enough of his wits back by then. "My men will kill you for this! Each and every one of you!"

"No, they won't," Vixen hissed. "That's the difference between me and you,  _Anthony._  My girls and I are a family. We love and support each other. They are not minions; they are my sisters. Your men are mercenaries; the only thing they are loyal to is your money. After your death, they will not rush to avenge you; they will rush to the vault in your mansion and kill each other over its contents. No one cares about you, Anthony, and we both know it."

Blade didn't seem to have an answer. It took him a full twenty seconds to respond. Why Vixen gave him that long, Atomic could only guess. "You won't get away with this. I have allies-"

Vixen scoffed. "What allies? You know the tides of power in our world just as much as I do. Even if you did have a friend amongst us, which we both know you don't, they won't have nearly enough power, or be close to stupid enough, to attack me. Don't fool yourself, Anthony. You are alone."

His eyes darted back to Barbie, who had a smile on her lips. She blew him a kiss mockingly, and he quickly looked away.

"Anthony Padilla," Vixen shouts. "For the murder of twenty-four of my girls and the assassination of the Silver Slayer, I hereby sentence you to death."

Blade's eyes widened. "What? I didn't-"

Psycho shoved a rag in his mouth before he can finish, shutting him up. Wrath walked off the stage and grabbed a canister from behind it. She hoisted it up and dumped it on Blade, soaking him with its liquid contents. Atomic is close enough to smell it; gasoline.

"Atomic," she hears Vixen's voice, low and strong. They make eye contact, and Vixen nods. Its the only signal Atomic needs.

She fishes the arrow Secure gave her out of her quiver and dipped it in the torch beside her. The hay instantly alights, setting the entire tip on fire. She nocks it into her bow and aims.

Blade had figured out what was going to happen to him by that point. He started screaming against his gag at Barbie, tears forming in his eyes as he struggles wildly against his bonds. All Barbie does in response is grin, the flames licking Atomic's arrow dancing in her eyes.

 _This is for you, Silver,_ Atomic thinks to herself. Then she let the arrow fly.

It hits its target, Blade's hip, perfectly. He screamed in pain as the flames start to consume his body. Psycho pulled out his gag; there is no point in keeping it in anymore. He's in too much pain to speak.

His screams echoed around the Compound, bouncing off the walls. They felt like music to Atomic's ears. This was the man who had killed Silver. He deserved all the pain in the world.

It took him a solid three minutes to die. Atomic watched as the flames burned through his skin and melting his flesh, letting you see his bone. Even after he slumped forward and went silent, she watched. All the other girls left soon after, but she stayed planted in her spot, watching as the flames jumped across his now-black skin. Blade had been an attractive man; now he was unrecognizable, nothing but a charred husk of flesh that had once been a person.

"Atomic," she hadn't notice Vixen walk down, but here she was, standing right next to her. She put her hand on her shoulder. "You need to get some rest."

She took a deep breath and nodded, pulling her eyes away from Blade's smouldering form to meet Vixen's gaze.

The black-haired woman cupped her cheek. "I'm proud of you, Atomic. He would be too."

That was when she broke down, her emotions hitting her like a freight train. She'd been able to distract herself with thoughts of revenge, but now that she'd achieved it, the immense pain of losing Silver consumed her completely. She collapsed into Vixen's arms, ignoring the smell of burning flesh, and started to sob. 


	12. Boze

_"Hey."_

_It was lunch. Damien was off with his boyfriend somewhere (not that he'd told anyone, but she knew), Courtney had gone out with Dr. Sui, Joven was still with Silver, and Ian was who knows where. It was raining, so Boze decided to go to the breakroom for lunch and just buy a couple bags of chips from the vending machine._

_They'd had Silver for a week by now. Damien had quit almost instantly, of course; he was in on the plan, even if Silver didn't know it. There were a lot of things Silver didn't know. Joven, on the other hand, was determined to break the renowned serial killer. Boze gave him a week before he gave up. If anyone was going to be broken during those exchanges, it wouldn't be Silver._

_What she hadn't been expecting to see in the breakroom was Mari. The purple-haired woman was sitting by the window, grasping a cup of coffee in her hands. There was a sombre expression on her face. Boze could instantly tell that something was wrong._

_Mari looked up at her words. "Hey."_

_"You okay?" Boze asked. She didn't_  really _care, of course, but she was curious. Mari was one of the strongest psychologists in the institute. Whatever had her down must've been big._

_Then again, they weren't exactly close. The only one of her coworkers that she ever really talked to was Damien, and that was just because they were working together. What sucked about him was the fact that he was normal; not a psychopath, not a sociopath, not anything. He didn't even have ASPD. All that was off about him were his morals._

_"I'm fine," Mari replied, completely unconvincingly._

_"Patient trouble?"  Boze guessed, making her way to the vending machines and pulling out her wallet. She could see Mari's reflection on the plastic screen._

_"No," Mari sighed. "Well, Moss is being a bitch, but he's not the main problem."_

_"So there is a problem, then," Boze smiled._

_Mari rolled her eyes. "Damnit."_

_Boze got her three bags of Cheetos and walked over to her coworker, dragging a chair with her. Mari was perched on a slight ledge under the window that looked anything but comfy, and she didn't want to take the spot next to her._

_"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked._

_Mari sighed, not taking her eyes off the window. It was a pretty sight outside; the raindrops were so large you could see it, and it was fun watching all the people without umbrellas scuttling around below, trying to get under banisters. "Not really. The psychologist part of me is telling me that I should, but the normal part of me is telling me to just bottle it up and keep it inside me forever."_

_"As a psychologist, I agree with the psychologist part of you," Boze joked. "Have you not talked to Ian about it?"_

_Everyone knew that she and Ian were close. Platonically, of course. Lasercorn had told her all about his relationship with Ian; even the details she would have rather not known._

_"I've tried,"  Mari replied. "But he doesn't understand. As far as I know, he's never even been in a relationship before, let alone a serious one. He keeps trying to solve the problem, but feelings... they aren't a jigsaw puzzle. The most logical solution isn't always the best one."_

_So Ian hadn't told her about Lasercorn. Interesting. She'd have to think about that later._

_"So it's boyfriend troubles?" Boze raised an eyebrow._

_"Fiancée," Mari answered quickly. "Well, ex-fiancée, now."_

_"Ah," Boze didn't have an answer for that one. She'd never been in a real relationship, one with any connections that weren't purely physical, let alone engaged. In this topic, she was even worse off than Ian. She'd have to fake it till she made it. "What happened?"_

_"I don't know," Mari remarked. "I thought everything was fine between us. He hadn't been acting out of the ordinary beforehand. We were just planning our wedding, and then boom, he's asking for the ring back. I still don't know why."_

_"He might have been intimidated," Boze suggested. "Maybe he wanted a complaint housewife, and he finally realized that you weren't going to be one. Or he's just an asshole. One of the two."_

_Mari smiled and leaned against the wall. "Or both. Men just suck sometimes."_

_"Why not just give up on them entirely?" Boze joked._

_Mari laughed. "We can't all be lesbians, Ericka."_

_"Am I really that obvious?" she asked. She supposed that she could say she was a lesbian; she never really felt any attraction that wasn't physical, but she'd always greatly preferred women over men, and imagining herself in a relationship with a man felt even more alien that visioning herself in a serious one with a woman was._

_Mari nodded. "You don't act like you're very straight, Ericka. I could tell after ten minutes of knowing you."_

_"I always knew my leather jackets would give me away," she joked, knowing that Mari didn't really mean the words she'd said. There's no real way to act a certain sexuality. At least, if there was, Boze didn't know how to do it. "Seriously though, it sounds like this guy didn't deserve you. Someone who would call off an engagement suddenly probably isn't the best person out there."_

_"That's what Ian keeps saying," Mari sighed. "It doesn't make it any less painful, though. And now I have a wedding to cancel, people to notify, refunds to handle... there's so much on my goddamn plate right now, even without work."_

_"I can take him, if you want," Boze blurted. "Moss, I mean. Take him off his shoulders for you. I know you're already dealing with Sohinki; I doubt that you need both of them."_

_"Ian thought that they would be a distraction," Mari smiled bitterly. "He was wrong. Obviously."_

_"He was just doing what works for him," Boze explained. "You know how work-minded that man is."_  
  
"I do," Mari nodded. "But, seriously, if you take Moss, that'd be great."

_"It would be my pleasure," Boze smiled. "I've been looking at his files recently anyway. He's certainly... interesting, to say the least."_

_And seeing as they were friends, handling him would be a breeze. Thinking of talking to him put a smile on her face. Ever since she'd decided to use her education, leave her girls for a while to take this job and help him out and Sohinki out (and Silver by extension now), she hadn't had contact with any other mentally damaged people. It would be nice to talk to a sociopath._

_"That he is," Mari sighed._

_The clock on the wall hit 12:30, signalling the end of lunch. Boze stood up and stretched. "See you later, Mari."_

_"Bye, Ericka," Mari replied as Boze made her way to the door. "Thank you."_

• • •

"Are you okay?" Boze asked.

Atomic and her were sitting in the bar. All the other girls were celebrating the revenge they'd gotten for their sisters. The dance floor was packed, the liquor was flowing, and the bar was alive with sound, both from talking and music.

They weren't joining in on the fun. It was unlike Atomic, but Boze wasn't complaining. She hated dancing.

"Yes," Atomic replied, taking a sip of the wine Boze had ordered for her. The shorter woman did the same with her own glass. 

"Are you sure?" Boze asked. "You seem a bit distant."

"I'm just..." Atomic started, trailing off before she could finish. Boze doubted that she knew the words to describe her emotions. "I don't know."

"Well, how are you feeling?" Boze prodded, taking another sip of her wine.

"Not good," Atomic replied. "I... I thought I'd be happy. After killing him. But I'm not."

"Why not?" Boze asked.

"I don't know," Atomic answered. "I don't know."  
  
 _Yeah, you've said that._  "Did killing Anthony make you feel sad?"  
  
God, she felt like she was talking to a toddler. She didn't know what was going on in Atomic's head, but everything that came out of her mouth made her sound like an idiot. How had this been Wes' dreamgirl? Boze understood the allure of having an obedient partner, but having one as childish and bland as Atomic just wasn't her cup of tea.

 _What did you except?_  her mind reminded her.  _You helped Wes do this. You knew what would happen to her, who she'd become. This what you wanted, what you strived to achieve._

She shook the thought from her head. For the entire time that she'd been manipulating Wes; giving him instructions on brainwashing that she knew Mari knew how to avoid, putting him in prison just to break him out again, getting Damien to set up the electroshock machine perfectly to break her mind and not kill her, and everything in between, she'd been obsessed with the idea of breaking Mari. The idea of turning someone as strong as her into a mindless minion got her off just as much as it did for Wes.

But now that she had Atomic, and realized just what killing off Mari like that would earn her... she was bored. Atomic wasn't fun, she was annoying. As much as she hated it, she found herself  _missing_ Mari, which was pointless. 

Mari was dead, and Atomic was all that was left of her. She might as well get used to it. 

"No," Atomic replied. "Not killing him. It was just the realization that I'm never going to get Silver back that-"

She cut herself off with a quiet sob, looking down. Boze rolled her eyes and downed her wine. Another thing she'd hadn't thought of in advance about Atomic was just how  _obsessed_  with Wes she was. It was something he'd actually gotten right, by himself, during the whole ideal, and Boze hated it.

"I know that it's hard," Boze replied. "Losing someone you love. It's the worst thing in the world."

Siren's face flashed before her eyes. She didn't love Siren, she knew that, but the feelings she'd felt for that woman were as close as she'd probably ever get. She missed her terribly.

"It is," Atomic sobbed. "I miss him so much. I feel- I feel like a part of me is gone."

Boze nodded. "I can't imagine how hard it must be for you."

Her words were hollow. She felt as if she were made of plastic, her conversation being dictated by some five-year-old girl who didn't know how adults talked. Even  _talking_ with Atomic wasn't fun. Nothing was.

Atomic shook her head and dried her eyes, clutching her bow so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"You look like you need some sleep," Boze stated. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed."

She stood up and extended her hand, pulling the other woman to her feet. Together, they wrestled their way through the sea of women on the dance floor, and out onto the deserted halls of the Compound.

Anthony's body was still on the stage. It had been doused in water to avoid lighting the stage on fire, and smelled like someone had sprayed Febreze on it. The blackened corpse wouldn't be moved for a few days, put on display to show what would happen if you angered her. Once it got too pungent for even Febreze to mask its smell, then it would be transported out in the forest, and dumped for someone to find. That is, if it didn't disintegrate at the slightest touch. Whichever came first.

Boze led Atomic up to her bed, all the way in the back of the room. "Goodnight, Atomic."  
  
"Sweet dreams," Atomic replied as she climbed into bed. Boze nodded.

As she walked back down to the bar to join her girls, Boze couldn't help but feel empty, like she was missing something. And she knew exactly what that something was.

Unfortunately, it was something that she'd never see again. If she had been normal, that thought would have made her feel grief-stricken. But she wasn't, and all she could feel was rage.


	13. Atomic

Atomic jolted awake, her face covered in freezing-cold water. Psycho was standing over her, an empty cup in hand.  
  
"Is the princess finally awake?" the platinum-blonde girl asked, flicking her long ponytail over her shoulder. She had her hands on her hips, and there was impatience shining in her grey eyes.

It was weird how obsessed with grey that girl was. Her hair, her eyes, her clothes, her lipstick, her nails... everything about her was silver. It wasn't a look Atomic would personally go for, but she admired how devoted to the style Psycho seemed to be.

"Yes," Atomic growled, sitting up and stretching. She was still wearing the outfit Silver had designed for her, and felt guilty for sleeping in it. It was one of the last things she had left of Silver's. Sleeping in it was almost like disrespecting him.

" _Finally!_ " Psycho exclaimed. "I've been screaming at you for the past five minutes! Are you deaf?"

"No!" Atomic shot back, defending herself.

"Then stop acting like it!" Psycho replied, rolling her eyes.

"Why are you even here?" Atomic asked. Out of all the girls she'd met so far, Psycho was the one she liked the least. She had an aura of false superiority surrounding her. If she had an Instagram, she'd probably be one of those girls who showed off their body in every picture.

"Vixen has decided that you need some hand-to-hand combat training," Psycho explained. "Apparently, your little boyfriend neglected to teach you that, even though it was one of his specialties, so here we are. Now get dressed. You look like a barbie a girl superglued glitter onto."

Atomic was practically fuming at this point. How dare she talk about Silver like that? There was nothing she could do in response, however, so she grabbed a change of clothes and went behind the paper walls that were scattered around the room to change, glaring at Psycho every second that she could.

A minute later, she got finished changing into a simple shirt, sports bra, and shorts. Psycho pocketed her phone. "Let's go."

Atomic followed her out of the sleeping quarters and into the main section of the Compound. Other girls were already scuttling around, performing whatever tasks they were expected to do. It seemed that she'd missed breakfast, and had to settle for a piece of toast that had been left on the counter of an abandoned A&W ("Food for latecomers," Psycho had informed her with a sneer).

She had to eat it on the fly as Psycho led her down to the parking lot. The delivery girls were the only ones down here, all of them wearing the standard uniforms for girls, running around with packages in their hands.

Psycho took her right by them and down a level. There were no cars down here, and the few lights that hung from the ceiling barely lit up the place. In the middle of the abandoned parking lot, there was a boxing ring set up, with red mats making up its base and rope hung between four poles surrounding it.

Surrounding the ring were Pamick and a black-haired, green-eyed girl wearing a leather jacket that Atomic had never seen before. Inside the ring were two girls; Wrath, and a girl with dark brown hair that looked latin. The two of them had been fighting, but they stopped at the sight of them.

"There you are," Wrath grumbled. To this day, Atomic still couldn't help feeling a bit intimidated by her. Wrath had deep brown downturned eyes and long brown hair. She was tall; six feet at the least. What was most terrifying about her, however, were her muscles. That girl looked like the Mountain from Game of Thrones. Before meeting her, Atomic hadn't even known that girls were  _capable_  of having that much muscle. "We've been waiting for you."

"Blame her," Psycho complained, sliding under the ropes and doing a complicated hand greeting with the latin girl. 

Wrath brought her eyes up to Atomic, who was still standing halfway across the parking lot, having stayed behind while Psycho rushed forwards to the other girls. She gave the taller woman an awkward hand-wave.

"Well, get over here, then," Wrath called out to her. "Can't train if you're all the way over there."

Atomic gulped and walked over to the ring, feeling all of the other girls' eyes on her. She stopped outside the ring, but Wrath made a 'come here' gesture, so she slipped under the rope.

"Okay, girls," Wrath clapped her hands together. "I'm sure you've all already heard of her, but this is Atomic, our newest member. Now, let's all introduce ourselves."

"What is this, kindergarten?" the latin girl asked. Psycho snickered. Atomic saw why they were friends; from the looks of it, they were both assholes.

"Yes, Rage, it is," Wrath snapped. "Except this is my school, and here, instead of getting expelled for breaking a rule, you get your neck snapped for pissing me off as punishment. Are we understood?"

"Of course, my wise leader," Rage responded, rolling her eyes.

"I saw that," Wrath commented with a smile, before turning back to Atomic. "So, that's Rage, obviously. You already know me, but I'm Wrath. That's Psycho, and that lovely lady over there is Pamick. Well, Pamick Attack, if you want to be fancy, but none of us call her that because it's a stupid name."

"You know, I came out to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now," Pamick brought a hand to her heart in fake insult.

"And I'm Jab," the green-eyed girl announced, waving at Atomic. She returned the gesture.

"So you're calling my name stupid when  _Jab_  exists?" Pamick asked. "Just admit that you hate me."  
  
"Hey!" Jab actually sounded insulted.

"Quiet in my classroom!" Wrath shouted. Then she smiled at Atomic. "Anyways, welcome. We are Vixen's brawlers, and, technically speaking, you're one of us, so welcome to the club."

"There's only five of you?" Atomic asked, surprised. The delivery girls alone had at least thirty girls on their team.

"Well, you rarely need more than three of us for a mission, and there have never been two missions on the same day before," Wrath explained. "There isn't that huge of a demand for us."

"Oh," Atomic replied, not knowing how else to respond.

"So, now that you're here, let's get started, shall we?" Wrath rubbed her hands together. "Rage, get off the platform."

"What?" Rage asked. "Why are you letting Psycho-"  
  
"Rage!" Wrath shouted. "Off the platform!"

Rage rolled her eyes and ducked under the rope, muttering obscenities under her breath.

"Okay, Atomic," Wrath turned to her. "How much experience do you have in hand-to-hand combat?"  
  
"I don't know," Atomic replied. Who knew what she had done in her memory gaps? "Not much."

"Well, that's why you're here," Wrath explained. "To learn. Form a fist and get into a fighting stance."

Atomic did, curling her fingers. Last second, she remembered to untuck her thumb, and rested it over her index and middle fingers. She held her fists above her face. Then she planted her feet on the ground, forming the best stance she could.

Psycho circled her, checking her form. The platinum-blonde pulled her arms away from her torso and kicked her left foot a few centimetres away from where it had originally been. Atomic almost fell over, but managed to stay upright.

"Rember that position," Wrath gave her a few seconds. "Now kick and return to it."

Atomic did as she asked. Psycho kicked her foot out again. 

Wrath had grabbed what looked like a small mat, and held it between her hands. "Kick this with all your strength and return to your position."

Atomic did, kicking it as hard as she could. Wrath barely budged. "Use your hips more. Rotate. It gives you more strength."

The purple-haired girl followed her advice, rotating her hips as she slammed her foot into the pillow. Wrath had to take a step back. "There we go."

They worked on her kicks for a bit longer, before moving on to her punches. Wrath taught her to rotate her hips there too, and how to land a blow. Then they worked on blocking and defence, before Wrath taught her how to size up an opponent and pick a basic fighting style depending on what you calculated from them. Atomic knew that she still had a lot left to learn, but she felt like she could hold her own in a fight now, which was a step-up from when she'd walked in here.

"Okay, now let's put you to the test," Wrath clapped her hands together. "Psycho, go easy on her."

Atomic turned to face the grey-eyed girl, bringing her hands up to protect her face just like Wrath had taught her too. Before she'd even had a chance to size-up Psycho, the platinum-blonde jumped and kicked her in the ribs, before roundhouse-kicking her in the face. Atomic didn't have a chance to regain her footing before she found a fist in her stomach, and collapsed against the ropes.

"Psycho!" Wrath screamed. "I said to go easy on her!"

"That was easy!" Psycho whined.

Wrath sighed. "Just... imagine you're fighting a duck or something, okay? Don't use all your strength."

Psycho hadn't hit her terribly hard, so Atomic had already climbed back to her feet and raised her fists again. The two women circled each other, sizing each other up.

Atomic tried to kick her, which Psycho easily blocked. Psycho tried to punch her in the gut again, but Atomic saw her coming and sidestepped. After dodging a couple more of her blows, Psycho grimaced and kicked her in the shins before kicking her in the face so hard that Atomic saw stars.

"Psycho!" Wrath chastised. "What did I  _just_  tell you?"

"Ducks are scary!" Psycho complained.

"You have to be kidding me," Wrath sighed. "Get off the stage, you overgrown child. Pamick, take her place."  
  
Pamick, thankfully, actually went easy on her. She hit her lightly and only threw punches and kicks that Atomic had a chance of dodging. She even let Atomic get some real hits on her. By the time both of them were too exhausted to keep going, Atomic felt like she'd actually accomplished something. Half of her wanted to keep going despite her fatigue.

Why had Silver never taught her this? She was having the time of her life. They could've done it together; Atomic closed her eyes and imagined them sparring in their living room. There was no one she would've rather learned it from than him, and Psycho had said that it was one of his specialties. So why hadn't he?

 _Because he didn't want you to be too strong,_  a voice that sounded like her's said in her head.  _He wanted you to be too weak to defend yourself against him. He knew what might happen if you decided to fight back, and he was scared of it._

Atomic blinked. Where had that come from? It certainly wasn't  _her_  who had thought that.

Whoever it was, they were wrong. Silver wasn't scared of her; he loved her. He probably just hadn't found the time too, or some other equally valid and explainable reason. Most likely, he'd been planning on teaching her at some point, and had never gotten the chance too.

"Okay, girls," Wrath announced. "Let's go get some lunch, and then we're going to work on swiftness as a group."

"Swiftness?" Rage asked. "What are we doing, picking attributes for a video game character?"

"You know what, Rage?" Wrath asked, spinning around to face the shorter girl. "I think that's enough sass for one day."

"Okay,  _mom_ ," Rage responded. Wrath groaned and shook her head before storming off towards the ramp leading up to the main parking lot. All the other girls rushed to follow her.

As they walked, Atomic couldn't quell her excitement to continue her training. She was really starting to like it here.


	14. Boze

"So, how was training?" Boze asked her, sitting down next to Atomic in the cafeteria.

"Good," was all the purple-haired woman said in reply, stabbing her salad with her fork. Boze waited for a longer answer, but none came.

It was dinner. Boze had been hoping that training would open up a wild side to Atomic, bring a bit of Mari back, but it seemed that she had no such luck.

"She's doing well," Wrath stated. All of the brawlers were sitting at the table. "Bit of a natural, I'd say."

Boze smiled. "That's good. You'll be a fighter in no time, Atomic."

"I know," Atomic said with a smile. Psycho and Rage scoffed almost in synch.

Boze didn't blame them for disliking the new recruit; she disliked her as well, no matter how much she hated to admit it. If it had been anyone else, she would have chastised them. But she didn't say a word here.

"Have we got any more missions planned, boss?" Jab asked. Most of her girls didn't call her boss, either calling her Vixen or Vix. But Jab was an ex-member of the military; it seemed that old habits stuck.

"Not at the moment, no," Boze replied, taking a bite of her salad. "But I have a meeting with Poison and Antidote in a few days, and they'll probably want me to do something for them."

"You don't have to do it," Wrath remarked. "Meet with those two, I mean."

"Well, rumour has it that those two have started to gather a following of their own," Boze explained. "Having them on our side might help us out later on. Besides, I never take a job that won't benefit me as well."

The seven of them talked for the rest of dinner. Atomic barely contributed anything to the conversation; she probably didn't know how to. In a way, Boze preferred her like that; silent.

Then it was break time, and most of the girls headed to the bar, Boze included. She noticed Atomic heading up to bed, but didn't care. She needed a few drinks; and maybe a bit more, if anyone was willing. If there was one thing she wanted right now, it was a distraction.

• • •

Boze raked her fingers through Mayhem's black hair.

The taller woman had her head resting between Boze's breasts, her eyes closed. Her hand was resting on Boze's stomach.

As they lay there, Boze looked up at the ceiling, thinking. She'd been hoping that this would distract her, but it hadn't. Despite having one of the most beautiful women in the Compound in her arms, all she could think about was Atomic; or, more accurately, Mari.

"What'cha thinking about?" Mayhem asked, looking up at her with shining black eyes that looked so similar to Mari's. Her tan skin was covered with a thin layer of sweat, so she shone in the light emitting from the ceiling lamp in Boze's room.

"Nothing," Boze replied almost immediately.

Mayhem gave her an accusing look. Normally, she would've accepted her answer without question. But in Boze's bed, the rules were different. For a brief time, the two of you were equals, both in the eyes of each other and the hierarchy of the Compound, until you walked out the door. "Don't give me that. I see that vacant look in your eyes. You're not entirely here."

Boze sighed. "No, I'm not."

"Then tell me, Vix," Mayhem asked. "What's on your mind?"

She could lie, she supposed. It would've been easy. But the psychologist part of her was telling her to talk about it, to stop bottling up her feelings, and she listened to it, like an idiot. "Atomic."

"Atomic?" Mayhem chuckled. "Not much to think about when it comes to her."

"I know," Boze replied. "That's why I am."

Mayhem looked at her oddly. "What?"

"I'm regretting it, Mayhem," Boze explained. "Giving up Mari and making her."

"Why?" Mayhem asked, sitting up. Boze wished that she didn't; her hair was smooth as fuck, and she loved feeling it against her skin. "You spent a lot of time getting her. You went to prison for a year for her, for crying out loud! What's with the sudden change of heart?"

"She's... she's not what I expected her to be," Boze sighed. "She's boring."

"Boring?" Mayhem asked incredulously. "She's fun! It's like talking to a child!"

"Exactly," Boze replied. "That's why."

"But she's the perfect little minion," Mayhem pointed out. "So what if she's boring? She's useful! And now that you've delivered her Silver's 'killer', she's going to be loyal to you forever. What could possibly be wrong with that?"

Her next words were dangerous. They would expose a weakness. Boze had constructed an image of herself for her girls; one of a perfect, stone-cold killer who never felt any emotional attachments. The ideal psychopath. Telling Mayhem the truth could topel that in an instant. And yet she did. "Because she isn't her."

"She isn't who?" Mayhem asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"Mari," Boze explained. "She isn't... Mari."

Realization washed over Mayhem's face; you could see it in her eyes. Mayhem stared at her for a few seconds, her jaw slack. "You- you miss Mari?"

"Yes," Boze replied almost instantly. "I do."

Mayhem breathed softly. "Wow. You, missing someone. She must've been one special girl."

Boze chuckled. "You have no idea."

"Well, she definitely must've been something to capture the hearts of both Silver and you," Mayhem smiled.

"I don't love her," Boze snapped. How could she suggest that? They both knew that Boze wasn't capable of love. "And neither did he."  
  
"Of course," Mayhem's eyes widened as she realized her mistake. "I meant it in more of a... fascination sense."

Boze smiled. A lot of things were allowed in this bed, but suggesting that... that was crossing a line. The only reason she was letting it slide was because Mayhem had obviously said it as a mistake; they had just had sex, after all. It was hard to think completely straight after that.

"So, then," Mayhem rested her head on her shoulder. "What's the plan?"

"What?" Boze asked, confused. What was she talking about? What plan?

"Well, you miss Mari, right?" Mayhem asked. "So, how are you going to get her back?"

Boze laughed. "That's impossible."

"You don't know that," Mayhem argued.

"Yes, I do," Boze shot back. "I'm a licensed psychologist, and I know exactly what Silver did to her in that electroshock therapy room. Mari's dead."

"Maybe to someone else, she is," Mayhem replied. "But you're Vixen. And I don't think you truly believe that. I think that you're trying to delude yourself into believing that Mari is truly gone, because you feel ashamed for getting rid of her. You want to force yourself to like Atomic, so you don't even want to  _try._ "

Boze gaped at her. There it was; one of the things that you would never dream of saying to her outside of the bedroom.

"Either that, or you're scared of failure," Mayhem continued. "Of actually, earnestly trying to get Mari back and failing. You're terrified that no matter what you try, she'll be gone, so you don't want to try, because if you don't try, then you can't fail. Can't miss the hoop if you never shoot the ball, now can you?"

The two women stared at each other for a few seconds. Boze couldn't believe how right she was. Hearing the words was sort of scary, like seeing into her head. And as a psychologist, she was used to that happening to whoever she was talking to; not herself.

"Didn't realize that you take psychology lessons, Mayhem," Boze joked.

"I don't need too," Mayhem replied.

Boze took a breath. She already felt vulnerable. She might as well kick it up a notch. "What do you think I should do, Mayhem?"

Mayhem looked genuinely shocked. Boze knew why. She never asked others for help; not when it came to matters that were outside of missions. Mayhem understood what was happening here, and the realization made her look a bit nervous. Boze had put a lot of weight on her shoulders with those words.

"What do I think you should do?" Mayhem repeated. "I think you should try."

"You do?" Boze asked.

"Absolutely," Mayhem replied. "Because I know that if you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life, wondering about what would have happened if you brought Mari back. I think you should try. Because if you fail, what's the worst that can happen?"

"I'll end up with the same result as if I hadn't tried at all," Boze responded.

"So?" Mayhem asked. "At least you would've  _tried._ "

Boze stared at her for a few seconds. She was right. God, was she right. Boze had to try. She had to.

She thought about Mari. Every interaction she'd had with her played through her head. Their small conversations in the halls of the institute, their breakroom chats, the way Mari had flawlessly pulled off pretending to be Atomic at Blade's party, the last time that she's been free. Then she thought about Atomic, and how dull and annoying she was compared to her predecessor. Her decision had been made long ago.

"Then I will," Boze remarked, eliciting a smile from her lover.

"You won't regret it," Mayhem reassured. "I promise."

Boze nodded, and then both of the women laid back down. Mayhem turned off the light and reassumed her previous position. Boze snaked her hand around her and held her tightly to her. A few minutes, she felt Mayhem's breaths even out against her skin.

There was no way that she was going to fall asleep anytime soon, however. Her mind was going haywire, imagining how she was going to get Mari back.

She was still in there. Boze was sure of it. She'd seen her, in Anthony's mansion, for that one brief second. And she'd heard her in the conversation they'd had after Atomic's mission, even if it had only been for a sentence or two. Mari was trapped in that mind somewhere; all Boze had to do was draw her out.

It was then that she was thankful that she never told Silver to take Atomic back to apply any more electroshock therapy. At the time, she had done it in the hopes that she'd get to take Atomic there herself sometime, if the need arose. After all, if he had, Mari would've been gone for good.

Her training as a psychologist ran through her head. She hadn't gone to school for five years, racking up thousands of dollars in student debt, for nothing. Sure, she'd managed to pin the debt on her father, who had never even known she existed, right before he died, but  _still._

She already knew that Mari could be lured out. So, logically, all she'd have to do is jog her memory, and Mari would emerge. Doing that without Atomic becoming aware of what was happening would be the difficult part.

So, the question was; how would she be able to jog Atomic's memory without directly doing it herself?

The answer was obvious.

The first part of her plan locked into her mind. She could figure out the rest of it later. With that thought in mind, she rested her chin on Mayhem's forehead and closed her eyes, drifting off soon afterwards.

• • •

The next day, before Mayhem awoke, Boze slipped out of bed and grabbed her phone. He hadn't changed his phone number, thankfully, even though he _should've_ , the fucking idiot.

"Who is this and how did you get this number?" a familiar voice answered.

"Am I not in your contacts?" Boze asked incredulously.

"I have no one in my contacts," he responded. "That was exactly what got all of us arrested."

"No, what got all of us arrested was Silver being an idiot and believing someone he shouldn't have. Add me as a contact," Boze sighed. "It's me. Vixen. We need to talk."

"Isn't that what we're doing right now?" he asked smugly.

"In person, you meatloaf," she fired back. "You know where to find me. Be here by 12:00 tomorrow."

"Wouldn't dream of missing it," he replied. Then he hung up. Boze put the phone down and smiled.

Her plan was already in action. The only question, now, was if it would  _work._


	15. Boze

"He's here."

Boze put down her glass of wine at Rebel's words. "Where is he?"

"Parking lot, last time I checked," the red-head replied. "Coming up. Mayhem is escorting him."

"Well then," Boze smiled. "Let's go meet him, shall we?"

She walked over to the door of the meeting room and flung it open, stepping out into the main area of the Compound. She could tell that he was here before she saw him. All of her girls were clumped together, whispering. Men were a rare occurrence here, after all.

He was standing next to the fountain, Mayhem standing next to him, a hand on her gun for protection. In his arms was his son, Tyler, looking as cute as ever, though he had lost some of his baby fat since the last time she'd seen him.

"Vixen!" Lasercorn greeted, a smile lighting up his face. "It's been a while since our last appointment!"

"That it has," she smiled as she walked up to him. "I've missed poking around in your head."

"And I've missed yelling at you about it," he replied, holding out his hand. She took it and pulled him close to her, patting his back. He would've done the same, if it wasn't for the toddler in his arms.

"Hey there, Tyler," she said after she released his father, pinching his cheek. "Nice to see you again."

Tyler giggled. For someone who had been kidnapped from his mother, like, a  _week_  ago, he seemed unusually cheerful. Ah, to be young again. "Hi, Ms. Vixen."

She ruffled his hair and turned to look at Medic. "Could you take him to the nursery, please?"

Medic nodded and reached for him. Lasercorn didn't look happy about giving his son over to a stranger, but he let her take him anyways after telling the toddler to be on his best behaviour.

"Couldn't afford a babysitter?" Boze asked as soon as Medic was out of earshot.

"Can't afford much of anything, nowadays," he replied nonchalantly, sticking his hands in his pockets. "You said you wanted to talk?"

"Yes, I did," she responded, making a waving gesture to her girls. Despite their curiosity, they knew what that sign meant, so they dispensed to continue their whispered conversations elsewhere. "Follow me."

Boze led him to the meeting room and held the door open for him. He sat on the left couch, her on the right. She picked up her glass of wine.

"You're going to drink yourself to death someday," Lasercorn remarked.

"Then I'll go out doing what I love," she replied as she took a sip. "How's your son?"

"Surprisingly well," Lasercorn replied. "I thought he'd be a bit emotionally traumatized, but nope."

"And is he... normal?" Boze asked, rotating her wrist, making the wine in her glass sloosh against its walls.

"Well, I took him to an animal sanctuary once," Lasercorn explained as he surveyed the room. They could probably describe themselves as friends, but in their world, you could never be too sure. Betrayal was as common as breathing. "The only time he hurt one was when he hugged a cat too hard, and he cried about it for twenty minutes afterwards. If anything, he's  _too_  empathetic."  
  
"Were you a big cat torturer as a child?" Boze asked. 

"Yes and no. When I was his age, I was still on bugs," Lasercorn replied. "I only started lighting cats on fire in my teens."

Oh, Lasercorn, ever the arsonist. That had always been his gimmick, his signature. When she had been his psychologist, she had read up on some of his crimes. Whatever was remotely flammable, he'd lit it on fire. She had to admire his creativity.

"I killed my first cat when I was seven," Boze reflected on the memory. "By the time I was fourteen, I had moved on to dogs."

"Dogs?" Lasercorn laughed. "I would've done dogs, but I was too chickenshit to sneak into people's yards to grab them."

"Oh, I didn't just grab them," Boze smiled. "I'd watch my neighbours, learn their routines, and kill their dogs while they were away, right in their yards. Used to string their bloodied corpses up on their fences by their tails for them to find."

"What about the children?" Lasercorn asked. "Some of those neighbours must have had a son or daughter. Just think about how  _traumatized_  they'd be."  
  
"Oh, I did," Boze grinned. "That was the best part."

Lasercorn chuckled and sat back in his chair. Boze poured him a glass of wine, which he took without complaint. "So. Why'd you call me here?"

"What, I can't just want to talk to an old friend?" Boze asked, feigning insult.

"We both know that you never do something unless you have something to gain from it," Lasercorn stated, taking a sip of his wine. "Why am I here?"  
  
"I need your help," Boze replied, crossing her legs.

"With what?" Lasercorn asked, leaning forwards. "With all the girls you have, I would've thought that you'd never need help on a job again."  
  
"There are certain things that my girls can't help me with," Boze explained.

"Like what?" Lasercorn asked.

"Politics," Boze replied with a shrug. "Just to name one."

"You planning on running for mayor or something?" Lasercorn asked with a snicker.  
  
Boze rolled her eyes. "Of course not, you sack of bricks. I'm talking about  _our_  politics."

"As far as I'm aware, you have that in the bag as well," Lasercorn remarked. "Seeing as you effortlessly took out Blade  _and_ Silver."

Boze stopped mid-sip. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Oh, don't give me that," Lasercorn laughed. "You may have been able to fool his purple-haired bimbo, but you can't fool me. I know you, Vixen, and I know that it wasn't Blade who held that gun to Silver's head."

"And how do you know that?" Boze asked. 

"Because I knew both of them," Lasercorn replied. "Blade and Silver. Personally. They were friends. Blade never would've killed him. The question is; why would you frame him for it if you didn't have anything to gain from doing so?"

Boze chuckled softly. "You're smarter than I gave you credit for, Lasercorn. So; what are you going to do about it?"

"I didn't come here to kill you, Vixen," Lasercorn replied. "I'm not stupid. Silver and I were friends, sure, but he was an _asshole_. I'm not about to attack the Queen of the Underground to avenge someone I barely cared about in the first place."

"Is that what they're calling me now?" Boze asked, raising her eyebrow.  
  
"You already knew that," Lasercorn rolled his eyes. "I know you have someone watching me and everyone else."  
  
Boze brought a hand to her heart. "I would never!"

Lasercorn sighed. "Sure you wouldn't. Anyway, you never answered my question."  
  
"I did, actually, you just went off on a tangent about my girls," Boze replied, taking another sip of her wine.

"Just answer my question please," Lasercorn demanded. "Why do you need my help?"

"Sohinki has shown up on my radar," Boze started to explain. "Ever since Blade died, he's been causing a ruckus, attacking everyone who crosses his path. I'm worried that he's going to come after me at some point."  
  
"You could handle him easily," Lasercorn scoffed. "Sohinki's nothing but an upstart who thinks he's stronger than he really is."

"Yes, but he's friends with Poison and Antidote," Boze leaned forwards. "And seeing as they're growing more powerful by the day, angering them wouldn't be a smart idea. I'm hoping to form an alliance with them. Killing Sohinki is not very high on my to-do list at the moment."

"And what am I supposed to do about it?" Lasercorn asked.

"You two were friends once," Boze smiled. "Well, more than friends, but that doesn't matter. I want you to rein him back in a little. Get him back down to his normal crimes."

Lasercorn sighed. "I'm a full-time father, and I can barely make ends meet. I don't have the time to do this, Vixen. What would I even get out of it if I did?"

"I could get you out," Boze replied. "What you're doing for money right now is beneath you. I have room here for you, food for you to eat, clothes for you to wear, the works. There are other kids here for your son to socialize with, and I've got girls who could wipe Tyler's record clean and replace it with one of someone else. He could go back to school, Lasercorn. All for free."

"And your girls would be fine with a man staying here?" Lasercorn raised his eyebrow.

"My girls are fine with whatever I tell them to be fine with," Boze leaned back. "Do we have a deal?"  
  
They stared at each other for a few seconds. It didn't take long for him to make his decision. "Of course we do."

"Good," she smiled. Lasercorn stood up to leave, but she grabbed his wrist. "There's one last thing I want to talk about, actually."

Lasercorn sat back down. "And what is that?"

She stood up and went to the back of the room where she had been keeping the book, hidden beneath some papers. Lasercorn's eyes narrowed when he saw it.

"Have you read this?" she asked after she sat down, holding  _The Inner Mind of a Sociopath_  out in front of her. It was a hardcover copy, and the glossy picture of Mari on the front shone in the light.

"Of course not," Lasercorn scoffed. "Why would I support her?"

 _Perfect._  "It's an interesting read."

"I'm sure it is," Lasercorn replied, his voice low. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Have you ever wondered who killed Ian?" she asked, answering and ignoring his question at the same time.

Lasercorn shot up, his eyes wide. After a few seconds, he regained his composure. "I know that the police thought I did it."

"But you didn't, did you?" she asked.

"Like I ever could," Lasercorn shook his head, downing the rest of his wine. There was pain in his eyes; real pain. Just like Boze had expected.

"Well, have you ever tried to figure out who did?" Boze asked again.  
  
"He was the head psychologist in the middle of a prison break," Lasercorn replied angrily. "He wasn't exactly the most popular guy there. It could have been anyone. What would be the point in trying to figure it out? No one knows for sure."

"Except for her," Boze replied, tapping her fingernails onto the cover of the book.

"What?" Lasercorn asked incredulously.

"She was there when it happened," Boze flipped the book open to the page she'd bookmarked. "See for yourself."

Lasercorn snatched the book from her hands and laid it on his lap, reading the page quickly. His jaw dropped.

"No," he breathed. "No. No, it couldn't- it couldn't have been...  _no._ "

"Why would she lie about that, Lcorn?" Boze asked. Thankfully, he was still looking down, re-reading the sentences as if he couldn't believe them, so he didn't see her smile. "There was enough in that book to paint Silver as a monster without adding that in."

Lasercorn opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. His eyes kept skimming over the words, over and over again, his jaw ajar. Boze finished the rest of her wine. So far, her plan was working  _perfectly._

"I'll have Rebel show you to your room," she smiled after it became very clear that he was never going to have an answer for her. "Tyler will be just across from you. Feel free to keep the book."  
  
Lasercorn nodded, looking distant. They both stood up, and Boze opened the door. Rebel was waiting outside. She introduced herself to him and led him upstairs. He clutched the book tightly the entire time, the dazed look on his face never dissipating.

Boze leaned against the doorway, watching them go with a smile. Part one was in place. Now, all she had to do was see if it worked.


	16. Atomic

The Compound had been in an uproar ever since Vixen's male friend had arrived. No one could believe that Vixen had let a  _man_  stay here. It wasn't that anyone was scared of him; they were just dumbfounded as to why he was here in the first place.

Atomic had gotten one good look at him while he was getting his dinner, his son at his side. He wasn't very tall, had short orange hair, and wild, intimidating brown eyes. They'd made eye-contact for a few seconds as he turned to walk away. He'd grimaced, like she was disgusting to look at. The interaction still sent shivers down her spine.

Like always, she didn't talk much with the other brawlers, instead opting to eat her food in silence. Earlier that day, they'd dumped Blade's body in the forest. Or, at least, what was left of it, as half of it disintegrated as soon as she touched it. The execution stage looked empty without it.

That night, she didn't go with the other brawlers to the bar. She didn't feel like she could. Dumping Blade's body had made her feel... hollow. Disappointed. She hoped that with some sleep, those feelings would disappear, right along with her daily memories.

Unfortunately, the one with Siren stubbornly refused to go away. It was like part of her was hanging onto it for dear life, and no matter how much Atomic tried, she couldn't shake it. All she could do was try to ignore it, but even that seemed impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, her subconscious forced it into her vision, making her look at it. But even that memory felt incomplete; the way Siren spoke was too rushed and jarred to be natural, and the words on the business card blurred. Atomic hated everything about it.

She made her way to her bed and got changed into her nightclothes. At some point, someone had put a chest full of clothes under her bed, so she had a variety to pick from. Then she laid down and shut her eyes.

• • •

A few hours later, she woke up, feeling restless. Lights were already out, and the rest of the girls were in bed, their snores echoing around the room. Atomic sat up and rubbed her eyes, before lying back down and trying to fall asleep again.

It became clear quickly that she wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so she managed to navigate her way through the sleeping quarters without banging into too many beds.

She'd never been out in the Compound at night before. In a way, it looked more beautiful than it did during the day. Moonlight streamed in through the glass ceiling, and all you could hear was the water in the fountain. She leaned against the railing for a little while, taking in the sight, before making her way to the bathroom.

The bathrooms were still marked with the gender signs, but seeing as there were no men here, everyone always ignored them.

Well, there was a man here now, she supposed, but he was sleeping in a guest room that had its own bathroom. Vixen had sent out a text to all of the girls describing exactly what his sleeping arrangements and schedule would be, to avoid mass panic. Atomic was glad for it; she wanted to see him as little as possible.

Something about him rubbed her the wrong way. It wasn't just his appearance, though that was frightening enough on its own. No, it was something rooted deep in her that told her to run every time she looked at him. Like always, she felt like she knew him from somewhere, but she felt that so often nowadays that she'd pretty much learned to ignore that hunch, so much so that she barely even recognized it this time around.

Vaguely, she remembered sitting across from him in a room that looked similar to the one she'd been in with Courtney. It was a memory she hadn't had before today, and would probably go away in her sleep. All he did was laugh, loudly, on repeat, droning out every word she said.

Had he been one of her patients, back when she was Dr. Takahashi? Before Silver?

That was how she categorized her life now; before Silver and after Silver. All of her memories B.S were muddled, jargled, and missing, while all her memories A.S were clear. At least, she thought they were. She wasn't sure of much when it came to her past.

She tried to shake her thoughts out of her head. What her life had been like before didn't matter. That was what Silver had always told her. The only thing that mattered was the present.

The bathroom door creaked as she pushed it open. She tried to flick on the lights, before remembering that the generator was turned off. Still, she didn't understand why Vixen switched off the power and not the plumbing. Maybe it was to make sure all of the girls actually went to bed, maybe something more sinister. She'd never know.

She went to the bathroom and washed her hands. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she was met with the haughty image of her face. It seemed distorted to her. There were bruises covering her skin from fighting practice, and big bags under her eyes. She quickly splashed some water in her face and looked away. Silver had never kept any mirrors, and she still wasn't used to looking in them.

Shaking slightly, she opened the door and stepped out. What she needed was sleep. That was all that was ever on her mind now. Because when she was asleep, she never needed to-

A hand wrapped around her mouth and pulled her backwards. Automatically, she bit down on their palm, but their grip didn't loosen. Before she could even process what was going on, she was being pulled back into the men's washroom, struggling against her attacker's grip.

The door slammed shut in front of her before she was slammed into the wall, her head hitting the concrete first, shocking her enough that she stilled. When the blackness receded from her vision, she found herself staring face-to-face with the crazy brown-eyed man.

Her eyes widened. He had her pinned down, his hand still over her mouth. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a quiet muffle that you could barely even hear  _inside_  the bathroom, let alone outside of it. She squirmed in his grip, but it was no use; Wrath hadn't taught her any escaping techniques. He had her trapped.

"If you say anything, I'll knock your teeth out," he hissed in her ear. "Do you understand me?"

Atomic nodded frantically. He removed his hand from her mouth. For a few seconds, she debated screaming for help, before deciding against it. If he was planning on seriously harming her, then he would've done it already. And he didn't look like someone who made empty threats.

"Do you remember him?" the man asked demandingly, snarling. There was a crazy look in his eyes, like he was acting on impulse. Atomic doubted that he'd thought this through.

She was taken aback by his words. Who was he talking about? "Who?"  
  
"Him," the man seemed to realize his mistake. " _Ian._  Do you remember Ian?"

 _Ian._  The name sounded familiar to her. A warm feeling spread across her chest. The name tugged on good memories in her head, she could tell that, but none of those memories came forth, leaving her absolutely confused. She remembered Courtney, at least bits of her, and all her other friends, so who was this  _Ian?_

"Who?" she asked again.

"How is that possible?" the man asked incredulously. "You were like a  _sister_ to him! How can you not remember him?"

Atomic stared at him blankly. She didn't have any brothers, or  _any_  siblings for that matter. She remembered that clearly.

"I don't know who you're talking about," she replied. "I wish I did, but I don't. I'm sorry."

The man looked even angrier now. He kept one of his arms pinned across her collarbone, and used the other to dig through his pocket. Eventually, he pulled out what looked like a wallet and flipped it open, using his other hand to pull something out.

He flipped the piece of paper he'd pulled out and showed it to her. "That man. Do you remember that man?"

It was a simple picture of two men standing on a beach. One of the men was the one standing right in front of her, but the other one was one she'd never seen before. The man in front of her had his thumb resting on the man's torso, obviously pointing to him. He was a semi-attractive man, with brown hair and blue eyes. He had a short beard, and there were glasses perched above his nose. The brown-eyed man was kissing his cheek as he grinned.

Wait. She knew him. She'd seen that man before. She was  _sure_ of it! She grabbed the photo and held it closer to her face, examining it.

The memories came rushing in like a flood.

A swing set, with a little boy with a bowl-cut swinging next to her, smiling. The same boy and her, crouched behind a couch as her mother called their names. Running through a forest, the same boy, a bit older, ahead of her. Passing notes to him in class. Throwing her remote down in anger as he beat her in Mario Kart. Eating lunch together in the cafeteria, just the two of them. Helping each other cheat in Science class. Doing a talent show performance with him, badly singing the pokemon theme song to the cheers of their classmates. Seeing him in the crowd during one of her dance recitals, right next to her mom. Whispering in detention. Talking about boys with him (something he was unusually good at). Going to prom together as friends and dumping punch on that bitch Tana as she danced with her boyfriend. Their first college class together. Graduating. Getting hired. Years upon years of experiences, all flashing before her eyes at once.

Atomic gasped and dropped the photo. The man took his arm off her chest, and she collapsed to the floor, the wind taken out of her, as more memories flashed through her vision.

Late-night talks in her apartment. Going to bars. Comforting him as he cried at his mom's funeral. Shelving medicine together. Watching him talk to a patient. Slapping him over a useless argument that they laughed over later. Signing a contract. Sobbing in his arms. Standing next to him as he was shot in the head.

The last memory made her sob uncontrollably. Oh, God, he was dead! She could barely remember him, and yet seeing him like that, his corpse sprawled on the ground, made a fresh wave of pain wash over her. It felt like someone had stabbed her.

_Ian._

"Do you remember him now?" the man asked. She remembered who he was. His name was David Moss, known as Lasercorn on the streets, and she had been his psychologist before Ericka had taken his place. Not Vixen, Ericka. Ericka Bozeman, who had once been her co-worker. The woman who had betrayed her.

For a few seconds, Atomic was gone. Lasercorn could see it in her eyes. For a few sweet seconds, he saw her; his former psychologist, rage and confusion coursing through her eyes.

"How could I ever forget him?" Mari growled. And then, just as quickly as she'd come, she was gone, replaced with the girl Silver had turned her into, holding the photo as she sobbed.

Lasercorn sighed, a tear forming in his own eye, which he quickly wiped away. He stormed out of the bathroom, leaving Atomic alone to the abyss that was her mind, clutching the last thing he had left of the man he'd loved.


	17. Boze

Atomic was visibly shaken the next day.

She could tell just by looking at her. Her purple hair was a mess, there were tear stains on her cheeks, and the bags under her eyes made her look like she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. There was a piece of paper in her hands that she kept sliding her fingers over with a dazed look on her face, like she wasn't quite sure where she was or what was happening.

Boze smiled at the sight of her. Lasercorn must've done something, said something, to her last night. Of course, that was precisely what Boze had wanted. Sohinki wasn't that big of a problem, after all. The real reason that Lasercorn was here was because she had wanted him to talk to Atomic about  _Ian._

Everyone in the institute had known how close Mari had been to the head psychologist. They'd been like siblings. For the electroshock therapy to work, she would've had to forget all about him. If she remembered that Wes killed her best friend since childhood... well, she never would've been deluded into thinking she loved him.

From the looks of her, it didn't seem like she remembered everything, but Boze hadn't been expecting her too. They were taking baby steps here. All she needed to do was make sure that Atomic didn't feel as confident about herself anymore, and from the looks of it, she'd succeeded in that. The only question was how much she had.

After breakfast was done, Boze had pulled Atomic aside while the other brawlers went down to the parking lot to train. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Atomic replied completely unconvincingly, not looking her in the eye. "I'm fine."  
  
"You seem a bit off," Boze remarked, patting her shoulder. "Are you sure? You can tell me anything, you know."  
  
"I know," Atomic sighed, blinking rapidly. "It's nothing. Just a bad dream."

"Was it about Silver?" Boze asked, knowing that the taller woman was lying, but deciding to play into the fantasy anyway. She wouldn't gain anything from yelling at her. And from the way she'd looked at Lasercorn this morning, Boze knew that her lips were locked.

Atomic nodded. "About him getting shot. I just... I can't get over it!"

"I know," Boze said in mock understanding. "You won't for a while. Trust me, though; it gets better."  
  
"I sure hope that it does," Atomic sighed, running her thumb over the piece of paper. When Boze looked down, she noticed that it was a photograph, and saw Ian's smiling face in between Atomic's fingers. When the purple-haired woman noticed her staring at the photo, she shoved it in her pocket, but by then it was already too late.

Lasercorn must've paid her a visit last night. There was no other way that she could've gotten that photo; Boze certainly didn't have any photos of her former boss lying around.

"Well, let's not keep Wrath waiting too long," Boze smiled, cupping Atomic's cheek reassuringly. "Have fun at training."  
  
"I will," Atomic responded. "Thank you."  
  
Then she was off, running down the stairs as fast as she could. Boze didn't know if she was desperate to get to the other brawlers or if she was worried that Boze was onto her. Either option worked.

Boze sighed and turned to walk back up the escalator. Poison and Antidote weren't due for another hour, so she had plenty of time for some planning. One of her watchers, Gaze, had found ties between a sex ring and the man she was stalking. Boze's blood boiled whenever she thought about it. She wanted to take it down as quickly as possible and get those women and children out, whatever it took, and there was an unread report she was itching to read from Gaze sitting in her email right now.

"Vixen!" a voice said from behind her, cutting her off mid-step. She awkwardly hung in the air to turn and face the woman who'd spoken to her.

Rebel was standing at the foot of the escalator, clutching a clipboard. Boze still hadn't gotten used to her. It was the head of the transportation department's job to alert her about visitors, and that used to be Siren. Half the time, when Rebel alerted her of an arrival, she expected to see Siren when she turned to face her. "Yes?"

"They're early," Rebel explained. "What should we do about them?"  
  
Boze sighed. Poison and Antidote had the reputation of being unpredictable. Poison had the knack to be early, while Antidote had the habit of being late. Instead of the two attributes mixing together like they did for most couples, to them, it was a battle of wills to see if Poison could drag his husband out of bed in time. It seemed that today had been one of the successful days.

Just her luck.

"Send them up," Boze ordered as she started walking back down the escalator, making her way to the abandoned McDonalds to grab some wine from the fridge. When talking to Poison and Antidote, she'd need it.

She grabbed the bottle and three glasses and made her way to the meeting room. She'd barely had enough time to sit down before her two guests burst through the door, bickering. If an old married couple walked into the fountain of youth, they'd probably end up like those two.

"Poison! Antidote!" Boze forced a smile on her face. "Glad you could make it!"

"Thanks for having us," Poison replied, sitting down on the couch opposite her. His husband sat beside him.

They were both wearing suits; black for Poison, white for Antidote, causing a contrast against their skin tones. Those two must have a designer, because there was no way that they were making a conscious effort to aline their wardrobes. Even if they were, Antidote would probably go against it just to spite his partner. Boze still didn't know how they had made it to the  _married_  stage in their relationship.

Back at their wedding, she and Lasercorn had made a bet; she'd given them up to three years, he'd given them ten. They were already two years into their marriage, so they better break up fast, because she had no intention of losing the two hundred dollars that were on the line.

"So, you guys reached out," she began as she poured them all a glass of wine. "What is it you want to talk about?"  
  
"Well, first, we'd like to thank you," Antidote explained, "for killing Anthony. We had gotten into a bit of a scuffle with him, and if he had decided to come after us, there was no way we would've been able to protect ourselves. So thank you."  
  
"You're welcome," Boze replied, sliding them their glasses of wine and picking up her own. "But we both know you're not just here to thank me."  
  
"No, we aren't," Poison agreed as he picked up his glass.

"So why are you here, then?" Boze asked.

"We are here because we want to make an... arrangement," Poison replied.

"What type of arrangement?" Boze asked.

"Well, as I'm sure you're already aware, we've started to form a little gang of our own," Antidote explained. "You've already snatched all of the available women, so we've started to recruit men to our's."  
  
"Like Anthony?" she joked.

Poison chuckled. "No. Like you. We only take men who are loyal and serious to the cause. Most of them are criminals, some are just deranged. Doesn't matter to us, as long as they're willing to work."

"How many men do you have already?" she asked.

"Over four hundred," Poison replied. "While everyone was busy with the whole Silver debacle, we managed to slip under the radar. We just recently formed a base of operations. It's all coming together quite nicely."

Boze doubted that they only had four hundred men. The number was probably higher. If they were smart, which she knew Poison was, then they'd keep the number low, both to make her think that they weren't much of a threat and to be able to surprise her if she decided to attack them. She wasn't mad at them for lying; it was exactly what she would have done.

"I'm sure it is," she took a sip of her wine.

"We were hoping to form an alliance of sorts," Antidote stated. "Just imagine how powerful we'd be, with your girls and our boys working together, side by side. We'd be unstoppable."

Boze thought about it for a few seconds. They were right, of course. And by killing Anthony, she'd made herself a few enemies; not ones she was terribly worried about, of course, but it was always nice to have a backup plan. There would be no downside to working with them either. The decision was obvious.

"That we would be," Boze agreed. "I'd be willing to form an alliance."

"Thank you," Poison replied. "You won't regret it. I promise."

"I hope I won't," she responded.

"There's one other thing, too," Antidote piped in. "One of our boys had made us aware of a sex trafficking ring that his girlfriend's been sucked into. It's being run by one of our enemies; Jack Paul."

Boze's jaw clenched at his name. "I've heard of it. I have one of my girls following him right now."

"Then I'm sure you're with us when we say that we want to bring it down," Poison remarked. "We already know where they'll be bringing a large number of victims in a few days; we were hoping you could help us free them."

"Of course I do," Boze leaned forward. "Where?"

"An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of L.A," Antidote explained. "We already have some boys ready for the mission, but we don't know if we have enough. We were hoping that you'd have some fighters that could join us."

"I have six," she replied. "Six professional ones. All of my girls know basic self-defence, however."

"Six will be enough," Poison nodded. "We'll send you a copy of the plans tonight. I suggest that you get your girl out of the situation; she's in a lot of danger."  
  
"If you know how to free the victims, then I won't need her there anyway," Boze put her wine down. "You have my email, right? My real one?"  
  
"Yes," Poison responded. "I do."

"Good," she stood up and extended her hand. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Of course," Antidote replied, shaking her hand. Her husband did the same. "We look forward to working with you in the future."

"Until then," she responded. "Talk to you tonight."

The two men nodded before leaving, heading back down to their car. Boze watched them go before turning to Rebel. 

"Has Lasercorn left yet?" she asked.

Rebel nodded. "He took the car you set out for him. Left halfway through your meeting."  
  
"Good," Boze replied, before walking back up the escalator to her room. He'd arrive at Sohinki's before long, and then she'd have one less thing on her plate. And with Paul taken care of, she could devote most of her time on the thing that mattered most to her at the moment; Atomic.

She walked into her room and rushed to her laptop, quickly sending Gaze an email. Poison was right; Gaze was in danger, and she needed to get her out of there as quickly as possible. She got a reply almost immediately;  _on my way._

Then she read the report. It was basic information, but she didn't want to send her girls into a situation she knew nothing about. By the time she was finished, it was dinner.

She ate dinner in her room. Poison and Antidote had sent her a copy of the plan, which took a full hour to read. From what she could see, it was a solid plan, and she was completely sure that they wouldn't betray her; they had no reason too.

Then, finally, she let herself climb into bed and fall asleep, Mari the only thing on her mind.


	18. Atomic

For the second night in a row, Atomic woke up early.

She checked her phone. It was 4:00 am. She sighed and pulled her blanket back over her and tried to fall back asleep. Last night, she'd barely gotten any sleep. She didn't need a repeat.

For the next hour and a half, she tossed and turned, trying to force herself to fall asleep. She tried every trick she could think of; counting sheep, evening out her breaths, you name it. But it was useless. There was no way that she was going to fall back asleep now. 

Defeated, Atomic climbed out of bed and turned on her phone flashlight, making her way past the rows of beds. No one else was awake, thankfully, so no one asked her what she was up too.

This time, she didn't think that the Compound looked pretty at night. In fact, she thought the opposite. Looking into the dark, abandoned stores, seeing their peeling paint, water stains, and holes where shelves and nails used to be made her feel like she was in the middle of a horror movie. She shined her flashlight in every corner, half expecting something to jump out at her, no matter how childish she knew that superstition was. She almost tripped on her way down the escalator.

Instead of using the bathroom she normally did, she went to the bathroom on the opposite side of the building. She knew that Lasercorn was gone, but ever since last night's... interaction, she hadn't even been able to look at that bathroom without feeling panicked, so she decided to abandon it altogether.

She made her way to the sink and washed her hands, before splashing some water in her eyes. When she raised her head, she was met by her reflection, staring back at her. She shined her flashlight on the glass to get a better look at herself.

The bags under her eyes had grown. Her hair was frizzy and greasy (how long had it been since she'd taken a shower?) and her eyes were dull. She wasn't a pretty sight; in fact, she was the complete opposite. Silver never would've let her look like this. He would've made her put on some makeup instantly.

 _Don't you think there's something wrong with that?_  a voice in her head nagged. It was one she'd heard before, but fleetingly. She'd never heard it form a full sentence before.

"Shut up," Atomic said out loud. She was too tired to deal with that at the moment. Heck, she barely even had enough energy to stand.

 _No,_ the voice responded. _I'm not going to shut up. You're going to listen to me for once in your goddamn life._

"Shut up!" Atomic shouted, knocking over a soap container as she slid her hands across the sink counter, looking down so she didn't have to look at herself anymore. She didn't want to anymore. Her face looked alien to her, like it belonged to someone else and she was just borrowing it, like a mask she'd seared into her skin.

 _Look up, you coward,_ the voice demanded.  _Look at yourself._

"No!" Atomic screamed, slamming her fist into the counter so hard that all of the soap containers shook. "Leave me alone!"  
  
 _I wish I could,_  the voice replied.  _But I can't. I am you, Atomic. I'm not going anywhere._

"What do you want?" she asked, tears forming in her eyes. God, she must sound like a madwoman, talking to herself like this. If anyone walked in right now, they would think that she'd gone absolutely insane, and she wouldn't blame them.

 _There's a lot of things I want,_ the voice responded. It was a feminine voice, one that sounded almost exactly like her own.  _Right now, I want you to look at yourself._

"No!" Atomic argued.

 _It wasn't a request,_ the voice replied.  _Look at your damn reflection, you miserable excuse for a woman. Do it._

"Why would I?" Atomic asked, fighting back against it as hard as she could, trying to force it back into her subconsciousness where it belonged. "What will you do to me if I don't?"

 _I'll-_  the voice faltered and went quiet. Atomic stood there for a few seconds, breathing hard, but it didn't return.

She clutched the sides of the counter for support. What the Hell had that been? She was used to hearing voices, but they had always been quiet, easy to push back into her subconscious to the point where she couldn't hear them anymore. Most of the time, they weren't even audible, just a mumbled jumble of words she couldn't even make out.

That though, that had felt like a person. An actual person, who she could have a conversation with. It sounded insane, even to her, but it was reality. That had happened.

But who could it have been? As far as Atomic was aware, there was only one person in her brain, and that was herself. Had she fallen so far off the deep end that she had gone absolutely mad? She didn't think so, but she couldn't think of any other explanation.

Her hand reached into her pocket, and before she knew what she was doing, she pulled out the picture of Ian and laid it on the counter next to her. She looked at it for a long time; at his grinning face, at the beautiful beach behind him, at Lasercorn. That picture represented all of her missing memories, the thing she hated the most about herself, yet she couldn't tear her eyes away from it, or force herself to throw it in the trash and walk away, no matter how hard she'd tried. A part of her was demanding that she held on to it for as long as she could, and she couldn't fight it.

She picked the photo up and put it on the mirror, before slowly looking at herself again. Then, for the first time since it had happened, Atomic thought about what Courtney had said to her in their meeting.

_"Why are there burn marks on your temples?"_

Shaking, Atomic drew back her hair and touched her wound gingerly. She hadn't forgotten everything she'd learned in school, after all. Those scars could only be from one thing; electroshock therapy.

She still didn't know why that had happened, or who had done it to her. It was the biggest gap in her memory yet. When she thought of other things, she could still pull up some memories; when she thought of being a psychologist, she remembered her time with Silver and other patients. When she thought of her childhood, she remembered her parents. When she thought of school, she remembered her teachers. When she thought of her time with Silver, she remembered being with him. But when she thought of how she got those scars, she got nothing but silence.

It infuriated her. Where were her memories? Who had done this to her? Why? Why hadn't Silver been there to protect her? Where had he been? Had it been before or after she met him?  
  
No, it couldn't have been before she met him. She'd been nothing but a normal psychologist when she'd met him. All of her enemies were locked away. No one would have done this to her.

Could it have happened while she was still Silver's psychologist, but before he was out? No. Before he was out, no one was out. He was the one who had broken everyone out, hadn't he been? All by himself?

No, that was impossible. There was no way he could've done it himself. He would've needed help from inside. But who would've? Certainly not Courtney or Ian. Joven, maybe? No, that didn't sit right in her head.

Two other faces swam before her eyes, but their features were too blurred for her to recognize them. They must've been her other co-workers. Why couldn't she remember her other coworkers? She'd worked with them for years. Their faces should've been seared into her brain by now.

But they weren't. They were gone, just like so much of her life. Even her time with Silver didn't fit together anymore. There was that memory with Siren, of course, but now she was finding more gaps.

Where had she been when he'd broken out? He must have, of course, otherwise he would still be in the institute. But she'd been working seven days a week, and Silver hadn't been one for sneaky escapes. He would've made it big. Which meant she must've been there when it happened. So why couldn't she remember any of the details of it?

And after he'd escaped, what happened then? Where had she been? That had been over a year ago; she remembered returning to ballet, and some guy named Isaac. What had happened to him? Why had she stopped dancing again?

To return to Silver, probably. So why couldn't she remember making that decision? Why couldn't she remember  _anything?_

She'd lost her rock. Without Silver to explain everything to her, she had nothing. Oh, what she'd give to have him back! She'd kill for that. Just to feel his arms wrap around her once again, to feel his lips against her's once more, to-

 _No!_  the voice had returned, as strong as ever.  _No! No, you don't. Trust me, you don't. Silver isn't the man you thought-_

"SHUT UP!" Atomic screamed, hitting herself in the forehead before clutching the sides of her head. Tears were pouring down her face now, collecting in the basin of the sink below her as if she'd turned the tap on.

What had she done to deserve this? Why couldn't she go back to her old life, with Silver, back when things had been simple? There had been no need to doubt herself then. She'd been blissfully happy, content. Why had the fates been so cruel?  
  
And now here she was, feeling empty without him, the gaps in her memory that had once seemed insignificant haunting her like a ghost, hearing voices like a madwoman, not even being able to remember who had tortured her, not even being able to look back at her memories with Silver with confidence. She'd lost everything.

Atomic glanced at the picture leaning against the mirror, then at her shaking hands gripping the counter, then the sink basin, then back at the photo, and then at her tear-streaked face and red eyes, then back at the photo, then at herself, like a routine, her anger growing and growing with each change of view, until she settled back down to look at the basin.

 _LOOK AT YOURSELF!_  the voice screamed, causing an echo in her mind, repeating the message again and again.

So she did. She stared at her face for a long, hard time, her anger growing and growing with each gap in her memory that she thought of.

She couldn't take this anymore. This pain, this uncertainty. She wanted to claw her brain out of her skull and smash it under her fist, just to shut it up. The longer she stared at herself, the more that want grew, the more her _rage_  grew, boiling up inside of her until it overflowed.

Atomic stared herself in the eye before raising her fist and smashing it into the mirror. The glass shattered with a loud crash, falling all over the counter or embedding itself in her skin. 

She stared at her fist for a few seconds; at the glass cut into it, at the blood flowing down her wrist and into the sink. She could barely even feel the pain. All she felt was numbness, flowing over her in waves.

Then the rage returned, and she stumbled back, falling on her knees, cutting herself even more on her way down. The ground was cold, but she didn't care. There, in the dark bathroom, blood pouring from her wounds, her hands and arms covered in small, sharp shards of glass, Atomic opened her mouth and screamed. 


	19. Boze

"What happened?" Boze asked as she rushed into the infirmary, pulling on her jacket.

Boze had woken up to a notification on her phone, simply reading  _Atomic is hurt._ She'd barely given herself enough time to get dressed before rushing to the infirmary, her heart pounding, hating how vague the message was. Was she seriously hurt or barely injured? There was no way for her to tell without seeing Atomic for herself.

"We don't know," Medic replied. "Raven found her on the floor of the bathroom this morning, clutching her hand. From the looks of it, she punched the mirror, though we don't know why."

The infirmary was probably the most touched-up room in the Compound. The walls had been painted white, and cabinets had been installed for holding medicine and medical equipment. A table surrounded by chairs sat in the middle of the room, with laptops strewn on its surface. Labcoats hung on hooks on the wall, though they weren't needed anymore; Mercy and Transfusion had been killed by Blade. Medic was the only one left.

Separating the room into two was a large wall made of one-way glass. Opposite the side Boze was standing was the patient area, with a hospital bed lying under a heavy light. Sitting on that bed was Atomic, her right hand wrapped in blood-soaked gauze that she kept picking at. Boze's breath hitched at the sight of her.

"Is it safe to see her?" she asked.

Medic tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. "She hasn't been displaying any violent tendencies, so I don't see a reason why not."

Boze grabbed a set of keys off the table and ran to the door, opening it quickly. Atomic looked up as she came in and sat next to her on the bed.

"Hey, are you okay?" Boze asked worriedly. Self-harm wasn't a good sign. She wanted Atomic dead, sure, but not if it killed Mari too.

"Yeah," Atomic sighed. "Just... tired."

"Why'd you do this?" she grabbed Atomic's wrist and examined her wound. The gauze was wrapped securely around her knuckles, but not so much that she couldn't move her fingers. Her skin was peppered with small bleeding scabs, no doubt from Medic pulling out small shards of glass that had embedded themselves in her skin.

"I got angry," Atomic replied. "At my reflection. So I punched it."  
  
"What was wrong with your reflection?" Boze asked.

In response, Atomic pulled back her hair, giving Boze a good look at the burn marks on the side of her forehead. "I can't remember how I got these. I keep trying to, but I can't."

Boze reached out and stroked her skin. She couldn't tell her the truth, of course; she'd never accept it. At least, not yet.

"Do you know who did this to me?" she asked, sounding desperate.

"No," Boze lied. "I'm sorry, I don't."

Mari let her hair fall back into place with a sigh. "I feel like it has something to do with my memory loss."

"Memory loss?" Boze prodded.  _That_ was a good sign. If Atomic was doubting her history, then she could take advantage of that. "What do you mean?"  
  
"There are gaps in my memory," Atomic explained. "Big ones. Important dates that I can't remember. I didn't even remember my best friend until recently, and aspects of my relationship with Silver... they're missing. A lot is missing, and I don't know how to get it back. That's why I punched the mirror. I'm confused, and that makes me angry."

Boze smiled and patted her back. The way Atomic had just spoken was unlike her. Was Mari already starting to slip back in? She sure hoped so. "I'm sure that they'll come back."

"I'm not," Atomic replied. "I don't think they ever will."

"Only time will tell," Boze stood up. "Tell Wrath that I give you permission to sit out of training today. Medic will give you some painkillers."  
  
"Okay," Atomic sighed, pulling her hair over her left shoulder with her good hand. "Thank you."

"Don't hurt yourself again, okay?" Boze asked her. "Silver wouldn't have wanted you to. Promise me that you won't."  
  
"I know he wouldn't have," Atomic paused. "I promise."  
  
"Good," Boze kissed her forehead. "Take care of yourself, Atomic."  
  
"I will," Atomic replied. Boze smiled at her one last time before going back into the main room. Medic was waiting for her, writing furiously on her clipboard. There was a microphone in the patient room; she'd probably been listening in, recording observations of their conversation. Medic only had training in physical medicine, but she was anxious to learn more. Boze had seen psychology books on her bed.

They said their goodbyes before Boze headed back to her room, giddy. She hadn't expected to get this far along yet. If Atomic was already doubting herself to the point of self-harm, then things were working out  _perfectly._  The next step might go over even better than Boze thought it would.

But that was later. Right now, she wanted to get some more sleep. Leading a girl-gang with 856 members wasn't easy work. There were two hours left before breakfast, and she'd be damned if she didn't get her well deserved rest.

• • •

She spent most of the day talking to Poison and Antidote, fine-tuning the details of their alliance and the mission that would commence two days from now. Thankfully, they were nothing like Silver, and were actually enjoyable to work with.

Honestly, she could see why Isabelle Lynn cheated on him. If she had been his girlfriend, she would've been looking for other options too. That man had been _insufferable._

After dinner, she tracked down Mayhem. The black-haired woman had been sitting with her friends, most of whom were also in delivery. Most of her girls hung out with their co-workers. You'd only rarely ever see a brawler sitting with a bloodhound.

Before she had the chance to follow the group to the game room, Boze had pulled her aside. "Mayhem, I need to talk to you."  
  
"Oh, okay," she'd replied, pulling some of her hair away from her face and shooting her boss a friendly smile. "Is it about Atomic?"  
  
"Indirectly," Boze responded. "Come with me."

She took Mayhem back up to her room and let her in. Boze sat in her rollable chair and moved so she'd be opposite her guest, who was sitting on her bed, seeing as there was only one chair in the room. 

Normally, she would've used the meeting room, but this was a conversation that she didn't want any of her girls overhearing. She poured them both a glass of wine and handed one to Mayhem, who took it.  
  
"So, what do you want to talk about?" Mayhem asked, crossing her legs.

"Well, it's more of a favour, really," Boze replied, leaning back into her chair. "I need you to do something for me."  
  
"I'll do anything," Mayhem took a sip of her wine, bring her legs up onto the bed so she was sitting sideways. She really was beautiful, which was annoyingly distracting at the moment.

Boze pulled out her cell phone and dropped it on Mayhem's lap. "I need you to call your brother."

Mayhem almost spat out her wine.

There were a few seconds where Mayhem coughed wildly, bending over and bringing her hand to her mouth. In order to stop herself from spitting wine all over Boze's bed and floor, she'd had to swallow it, and it seemed like a fair portion had gone down her windpipe. Boze drank some of her wine as she watched.

Eventually, Mayhem composed herself and sat up straight. Boze could hear her breaths, which were heavy and frantic with panic. "I don't have a brother."  
  
"Are you seriously going to try and lie to me?" Boze sighed. Mayhem had been with her for three years; she should know that Boze knew everything about her girls by now. "I know who you are, Mayhem. You have a brother and a sister, your parents are divorced, you grew up in Texas... do I have to go on?"  
  
"We aren't... we aren't on speaking terms," she muttered, placing her wine on the floor to stop it spilling from how much her hand was shaking. There was a panicked look in her eyes, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Are you sure about that?" Boze asked, grinning. "Because last time I checked, he's been trying to make contact with you for the past five years."  
  
"He thinks- he thinks I'm dead!" Mayhem sputtered. "My entire family does! Half of them are  _happy_  about it! I carefully planned it that way! They're from my past life; my life before you, before this. I don't want to go back to it."

"I'm not asking you too," Boze replied nonchalantly with a shrug, as if they were talking about the weather. "I'm asking you to help me out."  
  
"He won't come unless he's guaranteed that he'll get to talk to me," Mayhem cried. "And then he'll know where I am, and he'll get our sister and parents, and then they'll all come crashing back into my life when I don't want them too!"  
  
"We'll have a transportation girl take him in a windowless jet, here and back," Boze assured her. "He won't know where you are."  
  
"How many abandoned malls are there in L.A?" Mayhem asked. "He's not an  _idiot_. He'll figure it out!"

"Why would he know that he was in L.A?" Boze raised an eyebrow.

"He lives here!" Mayhem argued.

"Your brother hasn't lived here for the past three months," Boze replied. "He moved back to Texas, which was why it was such a hassle to get him the _first_  time."

"Please, Vixen," there were tears in her eyes now. "Please don't make me."  
  
"You said you'd do anything," Boze replied as she took a sip of her wine. 

"Not this," Mayhem stood up and placed the phone on the bed. "I can't. I'm sorry, but I  _can't._ "

She started making her way to the door, almost tripping over herself in the process, tears splashing onto the ground in front of her. Boze finished her wine.

" _Whitney,_ " she demanded, her voice low and dark. "Call. Your. Brother."

Mayhem stopped in her tracks, looking like Boze had slapped her. She might as well have. Here, using someone's birth name without their consent was the biggest insult you could throw their way. Girls had killed each other over it before. 

And with the tone she used, Mayhem instantly got the message. The black-haired girl turned and started walking back towards her, shaking. When Boze handed her the phone, she almost dropped it.

She sat down on the bed and hugged herself, her fingers hovering over the screen. "I don't know his number."

"Yes you do," Boze replied, seeing through her act. "He hasn't changed his SIM card."  
  
Mayhem took a deep breath and started typing the numbers, painfully slowly. Once she was done, she started wiping some of her tears off her face, but it was no use. There was no way she was going to be able to stop herself from crying now.

"Put him on speaker," Boze instructed. Mayhem nodded and pressed the button.

For a few seconds, all you could hear in the room was the sound of ringing, echoing off the walls. He didn't have a voicemail recorded, so they were soon met with the automatic voice of a woman telling them to leave a message. Mayhem looked relieved, as if she thought this was an excuse to get out of the situation.

"Call him again," Boze demanded, wiping Mayhem's smile straight off her face.

Mayhem did as instructed. This time, he picked up. "Who is this?"

His voice was staticky, but Boze could still recognize it, from the time she'd heard him scream in the back of her truck; and from the way that Mayhem's face paled, she knew that she recognized it too. She brought the phone up to her mouth, her expression clearly telling Boze that she'd rather be anywhere but here.

"Eugene?" her voice cracked. "It's- it's Whitney."


	20. Atomic

The other brawlers were  _not_ happy about the fact that they were working with men.

For the entire drive there, her fellow girls scowled at the men sitting across from them, holding their weapons suggestively on their laps. The men looked visibly uncomfortable about it, and Atomic didn't blame them. In fact, she was kind of pissed off about the way the girls sitting next to her were acting.

Like, sure, if they preferred to work with other women, that was their choice. She could get that, even if it wasn't her cup of tea. But acting downright antagonistic towards men? That wasn't something she could get behind. Besides, half of the men were pretty cute, and she knew for a fact that all the other brawlers (excluding Psycho and Jab) were straight, so what gives?

In short, it was a pretty awkward drive.

The van she found herself in was larger than any of the ones Vixen owned, though it followed the same model; black walls, black ceiling, black floor, one long bench for each side of the wall. There were two main differences, however; the lights here were attached safely to the ceiling, and on the left wall were multiple screens.

Vixen had given them a basic rundown of the plan. Three of the men would go into the warehouse wearing body cams, disguised as clients, to scope out the scene. For all the work they'd done, Poison and Antidote hadn't been able to get their hands on the exact measures of security that would be in place, and Gaze hadn't even gotten close. They did know that Jake Paul was the one in charge, however, and according to Gaze, that meant that the security layout they had in place would be anything but smart.

After that was done, everyone in the truck would decide on a plan based off of what they saw, and then they'd spring into action, burst into the warehouse, and kill every pimp and client they could find.

Atomic wasn't feeling too great about the 'deciding' part of the plan. After all, that would require teamwork, and from the way her fellow brawlers were looking at the men, that wouldn't happen anytime soon. She could only hope that what was on the line; the futures of up to three hundred women and children; would incentivize them to put their prejudice down and work together.

Just thinking about that made her blood boil. Why did any of the people running this ring think that they had any right to strip those women and children of their futures, dignity, and rights, to treat them as objects for there enjoyment? That was so fucked up that even someone like  _Vixen_  thought it was despicable.

There was a certain place in Hell for people who abused women and children (and men, for that matter) like this. She was sure of it. And tonight, she was going to send them there.

The truck rolled to a stop. One of the men, who had brown hair and brown eyes, stood up and clapped his hands, making the muscles in his beefy arms ripple. "Okay. Ryan, Adam, Shane; you know what to do."

It shocked her a little to hear their names. After spending so much time in the Compound, where everyone only went by their chosen names, hearing a normal name like "Ryan" seemed strange and unnatural.

For a few seconds, she wondered what the other brawler's real names were, before quickly shaking the thought from her mind. No one had outright explained the way names worked to her, but she was smart enough to figure out that they were taboo. Heck, just imagining someone calling her 'Mari' made her want to punch something; she was sure it was the same for the other girls.

Or, at least, it  _used_ to make her want to punch something. She wasn't so sure of that anymore. The concept of Mari didn't seem as alien to her anymore, no matter how much she wished it did. That name represented a life without Silver. And now, no matter how much she hated it, a life without Silver didn't seem so bad at all.

The T.V's flashed on, one for each body cam. The thirty people in the car watched in anticipation as the three men walked up to the warehouse.

It had been an Amazon warehouse, which had been shut down after the city started taxing them to try and help the homeless. Only 0.1% of their earnings, yet it had caused them to pack up and get out, leaving hundreds of people jobless. What a shame.

Atomic played with her bow as she watched, lightly pulling on the drawstring as not to hurt the body of the bow. The three men had made it to the door and were showing fake IDs to the bouncer. They were convincing enough, and then they were inside.

A man rushed up to greet them as soon as they were inside. He led them into a room full of women, all chained to the wall, along with some children. The cameras didn't have a mic, but Atomic could tell what he was saying from his body language; take your pick.

She had to physically look away, feeling repulsed. How could anyone have that little human decency and empathy? It seemed impossible, even to her, yet there he was. When she looked back at the cameras and his face, she felt an overwhelming urge to punch the screen. Only her promise to Vixen kept her back.

"Okay then," the same man as before announced as he stood up. "Security seems pretty lax. They must not be expecting to be found out. There isn't a second floor to this particular warehouse, and I doubt that there'd be any security in... other rooms, so this is all we're facing. I counted fifty men; twenty in the halls, thirty in the main room. Did anyone else count any differently."

"I counted twenty-two in the halls," Wrath chimed in between gritted teeth.

The man nodded. "Thank you. The plan I suggest is that my men and I barge in the front door. That will cause all the guards to go down the hallway towards us. While they're distracted, you and your girls can come through the roof and start shooting them from behind; then they'll have nowhere to run, and the victims will see women as their saviours first. Seeing as all the guards I saw were men, they'd probably be inclined to trust you more than us. Would anyone like to add anything?"  
  
"How are we going to get through the roof?" Wrath asked.

"Poison had ten of us saw three holes through the roof two days ago, in case this would be the best course of action," the man explained. "They're to the left. We have some grappling hooks for you to use to climb up."

"How are we going to know when to attack?" a different man asked, this one with long black hair. "We'll have to do it in sync for this to work."

"I can make a bird call," Psycho chirped in. "You'll know it's me."  
  
"Then we have a plan," the man clapped again. "Let's go."

He reached under the bench all the men were sitting on and pulled it out. Inside were three grappling hooks. Wrath, Psycho, and Pamick all took one.

"See you girls in a bit," the man smiled as they headed out of the car. "Good luck."

Atomic waved to him as she jumped out. The rest of the girls acted like he hadn't said a word.

Once they made it the left side of the building, the three girls with the hooks shot them up. They flew through the air before embedding themselves in the concrete of the roof. Wrath pulled on all of them to make sure they were safe. None of them budged.

"Let's go," she whispered when she got back to her own rope. The other two girls nodded, and then all three of them were climbing.

Once they were high up enough for there to be a comfortable amount of space between the two of them, Rage started climbing up the same rope as Psycho. Atomic followed her lead and grabbed the rope Pamick was on, hosting herself up.

As she climbed, she was reminded of the ladder she and Silver had used to get up to the balcony of Blade's nightclub, back during their first (and only) mission together. She scowled at the thought of it. They did that for him, and he repaid them with a bullet through Silver's skull. That was the rudest thing he possibly could've done.

After a little bit of difficulty, she was on the roof. All the other girls were crowded around the three holes that had been cut into the concrete, staring down at the room below. Atomic joined them.

There was no rope for them to climb down. All there was were the abandoned racks that had once contained packages, right below them.

"We're going to have to jump," Wrath sighed.

"Are you kidding me?" Psycho asked, rolling her eyes.

"Do you see a different way down?" Wrath replied, crossing her arms.

There wasn't one, so Psycho didn't have a reply, obviously. 

"Well, here goes nothing," Wrath said. Then she jumped.

She seemed to stick the landing without injury. Jab followed suit, and she too got out of it without a broken ankle.

"Fucking madwomen," Psycho exclaimed, before cupping her hands around her mouth and making a birdcall and jumping herself. Rage followed suit.

Atomic swallowed her fear and jumped. Last second, she remembered to roll, which saved her a broken foot.

They could hear the sounds of gunfire from the hallway. Not wanting to waste any time, Atomic and the other girls started climbing down the rack. The spaces between each level were big enough to stand in, so you pretty much had to jump down. Atomic reached the ground first, followed by Rage and all the other girls.

Everyone swung their guns off their backs. Atomic nocked her bow. Then, together, like the Avengers, they rushed towards the hall and started firing.

By the time any of the guards realized what was happening, it was too late. It was a bloodbath. Atomic was firing almost blindly, killing every man she didn't recognize from the truck. Every second, a man fell, either from a bullet or one of her arrows.

By the time they were done, there was a massive pile of corpses lying between the two groups of allies. Rage had been shot in the arm, and a few of Poison and Antidote's men had been injured as well, but from the looks of it, there were no casualties.

As Psycho treated Rage's wound, Atomic, Wrath, and Jab snatched the keys off of Jake Paul's corpse and started running to the victims, unlocking their chains. They were haunting to look at; they were inhumanly skinny, and there was a dead look in their eyes. Atomic couldn't look at them without feeling disgust; not at them, but at the men who had done this to them.

By the time they were done, three hundred pairs of eyes were on them. Wrath cleared her throat. "Hello. My name is Olive Allen. These are my colleagues. We are not the police; in fact, we are criminals ourselves. You have a choice; you can either join us, run away, or let us take you to the police station. If you are a minor, we are taking you to the police no matter what. We are not going to hurt you."

As Wrath spoke, Atomic watched as one victim ran over to one of Poison's men and hugged him, tears flowing from her eyes. He hugged her back, looking happier than she'd ever seen anyone look before.

"So," Wrath announced as she finished her speech, bringing Atomic's attention back to her. "The choice is your's."


	21. Boze

They stood on the field side-by-side, watching as the jet slowly came down from the sky.

Chaos had her blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her caramel eyes were concealed by sunglasses, the only optional part of the standard uniform. There was a piece of bubblegum in her mouth which she'd use to blow bubbles every few minutes. In her hands was a switchblade, which she was fiddling with. It was scary how similar she looked to Siren; if it weren't for the fact that she didn't have lipstick on, something Siren wouldn't be caught dead not wearing, they'd be identical.

The van they'd taken here was sitting around a mile away, back where the highway was. Despite the fact that the field was mostly flat, Boze knew that it would be a  _bitch_  to get Eugene there, and she was not looking forward to it.

Before long, the jet was hitting the ground. Rebel was as skilled a pilot as she was a driver, so she managed to stick the landing almost flawlessly. The jet rolled to a stop right in front of them, the wing barely stopping before it cut off Boze's head.

Rebel waved at them from the cockpit before disappearing indoors. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Eugene was pushed out. He flew through the air for a second before hitting the ground with a loud thump. Just like Boze had instructed, Rebel had secured a burlap sack over his head and tied his wrists together behind his back with rope.

For a moment, Boze didn't know if he was conscious or not; she'd let Rebel choose if she wanted to knock him out. Her curiosity was cured quickly, though, as he started squirming and screaming curses, somehow managing to get on his knees.

"Thanks, Rebel," Chaos said as she popped another bubblegum bubble.

"No problem," Rebel smiled, excitement sparkling in her eyes. Lord knows how much that girl liked to fly. "I'll take this bad boy to storage."

Seeing as you couldn't exactly fit a jet in a mall parking lot, Boze had opted for keeping the jet in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Once, it had been used for storing wheat; now, it stored something with a bit higher price tag.

"Please do," Boze replied. "See you soon."  
  
Rebel nodded and closed the door. Boze watched as reappeared in the cockpit and started getting ready for takeoff. The field went on for quite a while, so Rebel had plenty of space. Soon, her engines were roaring, and she was lifting back off into the sky, sending a gust of wind behind her.

Once her hair had settled back down, Boze turned to face Eugene, who was struggling to get to his feet, still cursing. You'd think after being kidnapped twice (or three times, if you counted this one) he'd be used to having a sack over his head, but  _no._

"Eugene!" she announced, making him pause momentarily.

"Who are you?" he screamed. "Where's Whitney?"  
  
"Patience!" Chaos had a wicked smile on her face. Boze knew her well enough to know that she took enjoyment out of seeing other people struggle. "We'll take you to her. If you co-operate with us. If you don't... well, things won't end well for you."

Boze rolled her eyes. There goes Chaos, making a big deal out of everything. That woman needed more excitement in her life.

"We're going to grab your arms," Boze explained. "If you struggle, we'll leave you here. Got it?"

Eugene didn't answer, but he didn't move, either, so she took that a yes. With a nod to Chaos, she walked over to his side and grabbed his elbow. Chaos did the same, and together, they lifted him to his feet. Despite his height, he was surprisingly light.

They started making their way back to the van. Just like Boze had suspected, it wasn't easy. Eugene kept tripping over everything, and they'd have to hoist him back up every time. Chaos suggested taking the sack off his head, but Boze refused before giving her the evil eye for even asking; Eugene had lived here once. She couldn't risk him recognizing where he was, even if the chances were slim. She owed that to Mayhem, at least.

Eventually, they made it back to the van. Chaos held Eugene as Boze opened the back before they threw him in together. Boze closed and locked the doors. Then the two women climbed into the front, and Chaos slammed her foot on the gas pedal.

It was a short ride back to the Compound. She and Chaos argued over the radio for a few minutes, before turning it off entirely and driving in silence.

The only people in the parking lot when they arrived were the delivery girls. At the sight of them, Mayhem ran upstairs. It wasn't time for them to meet yet, so Boze let her go.

She threw open the passenger door and jumped out, heading to the back and pulling Eugene out. Once he was safely on the ground, she pulled off the sack.

He blinked for a few seconds as his eyes adjusted to the light. She had to admit; he was an attractive man. It was obvious why Mari had fallen for him. If Boze liked men and was mentally normal, she probably would've too.

His eyes darted around the parking lot once his vision returned. There was a look of pure confusion on his face. He'd probably been expecting something more... sinister, like a villain's headquarters in a kids cartoon. Not a parking lot.

"Let's go," Boze stated, putting her hand on his back and pushing him forwards. With Chaos behind him to make sure that he didn't try and run, she led them upstairs.

They didn't go to the meeting room. Unlike all her other guests, she couldn't trust him. For all she knew, Eugene had a knife in his pocket. She needed to keep him contained.

All of her girls in the cafeteria stopped to stare at them as they walked past. They were probably shocked; this was the fourth man she'd brought in this week. That was a record.

Too late, Boze spotted Atomic in the crowd, staring at Eugene with a look of confusion on her face. Unfortunately, he saw her too.

"Mari?" he called out. "What-"

Chaos slapped him, but the damage was done at that point. It took Atomic a few seconds to realize that he was talking to her, and then she looked even more confused than before. Boze knew that she remembered that her name had once been Mari, but it had been too long since anyone had called her that for her to respond to it.

Eugene noticed that something was wrong with her. She could tell that he did. He looked like he wanted to say something else, so she grabbed his shirt and pulled him to the escalator, forcing him up the steps and into the infirmary.

Once she had him safely in the patient room, where she'd set up two chairs on either side of the bed earlier, she finally let him speak.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded, his voice full of rage. There was confusion and panic shining in his eyes. 

"I think we both know that I wasn't the one who did anything to Mari," Boze replied, kicking her feet up onto the bed.

Eugene didn't answer her right away as realization dawned on him. "Where's- where's Whitney. You promised me that Whitney would be here."  
  
"She is," Boze nodded. "Don't worry; you'll get to talk to her. You'll just have to do something for me first."

"I'm not going to do anything for you," Eugene growled, struggling against his bonds.

"If that's what you want," Boze shrugged, "I'm not going to stop you. Just know that you'll never see your sister again if you do."

He stared at her for a few seconds, his jaw clenched in anger. After everything that had happened to him, she was surprised that he wasn't yelling at her by now. He'd been traumatized enough to have at least _some_  form of anger issues, if not worse. And it was obvious that he hadn't become meek.

"What could I possibly do for you that you couldn't do yourself?" he asked angrily.

"Do you know who I am?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I do," he hissed, narrowing his eyes. "You're Vixen. Female criminal mastermind. The woman in charge of kidnapping me the  _last_ time I was kidnapped."

"This is  _not_ a kidnapping," Boze pointed out. "You agreed to come here."  
  
"I didn't agree to be your lapdog!" he shouted.

"I'm not asking you to be!" she shouted back. "Do you still love Mari?"

Eugene scoffed. "What kind of question is that?"

"Do you?" she asked, avoiding his question.

"Of course I do!" he screamed. "I know that I _shouldn't,_  after everything she put me through, but I still do. Why do you care? The woman I saw back there wasn't Mari. I don't know who she is, but she isn't Mari. From what I've seen, Mari is dead, so what does it matter if I loved her or not?"

"Mari isn't dead," Boze explained. "She's in there somewhere."

"And you helped make her that way, to turn her into that _thing_ ," he growled. "I know why you kidnapped me the last time. To lure Mari back into  _his_ clutches, so he could..."

He took a shaky breath. "You probably want her to remain the way she is."  
  
"No," Boze shook her head. "I don't. In fact, I want her back just as much as you do."

Eugene laughed like he didn't believe her. She could see why. If she was him, she probably wouldn't believe her either. "Cut the bullshit, Ericka. What do you _really_ want with me?"

She bristled at him calling her Ericka. That was the reason why she'd taken the name Boze for herself; it was the only one she had that no one could hold above her. No one knew that she called herself that, and therefore, no one could use it against her.

"I want you to talk to her," Boze replied. "She loved you, once. Seeing you again might... bring those feeling back. And with those feelings will come Mari."

"Why do you want her back?" he asked. "What benefit do you get out of it?"

"The same benefit that you do," Boze leaned back in her chair. "Getting Mari back."

Eugene scoffed. "You don't care about her. You never have."

"I don't see how you would know that," Boze replied. 

He rolled his eyes. "I don't need to be a psychologist to know that psychopaths can't form personal attachments. Your kind are too deranged and twi-"  
  
"Yeah, okay, sure," she held up a hand to cut him off. The last thing she needed to be lectured on was the inner workings of her brain. Trust her, she'd read enough on the subject, back in her teens when she had been trying to figure out why she was so  _different_  from all her peers. "Believe what you want about me, Lee Yang. I don't care. Are you going to talk to Mari or not?"

"Of course I will," he hissed. "But not for you."  
  
"I don't give a shit who you do it for as long as you  _do_  it," Boze replied tartly, wishing she had a glass of wine in her hand.

"I'll do it," he agreed, rage burning in his eyes. "And then I'll get to talk to Whitney, right?"

"Yes," Boze nodded, taking her feet off of the bed, happy to be done with the conversation. She'd half-hoped that talking to him would be fun; obviously, she was wrong. Maybe that was why Wes had instantly resorted to torturing him the first time he kidnapped him; that would certainly be more enjoyable than actually talking to the man. "And if you ever call me Ericka again, I will rip out your throat. Understood?"

"Understood," he replied with a scowl. "Now, can you  _please_ untie me before I grate all the skin on my wrist off?"


	22. Atomic

She knew that man.

That, she was sure of. And not in the normal,  _oh I've seen him before kind_  of way that she was so used to. No; she knew him intimately. She'd had some form of a relationship with that man before. Him calling out her old name had confirmed that. There was no doubt in her mind about it.

The question was; what was he doing here? Why had Vixen summoned him? If he was from her time before Silver, which he must've been (hopefully), then he couldn't be a member of her world, but rather, the one Mari Takahashi had belonged to. The normal world. So what use could Vixen possibly have for him?

He was attractive. Maybe that was it; she wanted him as a bedwarmer. No, that didn't seem right either. He didn't look like he wanted to be here. Vixen was a lot of things, but a rapist wasn't one of them. There had to be some other explanation. But what was it?  
  
"Earth to Atomic!" Wrath waved her hand in front of her face.

"Hmm?" Atomic asked, melting back into reality. "What's up?"  
  
"You've been looking at the infirmary for the past five minutes," Wrath pointed out. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Atomic replied hurriedly. "Just... curious."

"About who that hunk of meat was?" Rage whistled. "Me too."

Psycho elbowed her. "Don't objectify him!"

"He's not here to hear me!" Rage objected.

"So?" Psycho asked. "It's still a shitty thing to do!"  
  
"Oh, you're just saying that because you're gay," Rage rolled her eyes. "If you liked men, you'd be objectifying him too, hunny."  
  
As the two of them started getting into a heated argument on the subject, Wrath sighed and sat back down. Mari followed suit and started to eat her salad again. 

Despite the frenzy that everyone had been in minutes ago, the cafeteria had gone back to normal. Girls were talking and laughing just like before. Everyone was having a grand ole' time while she sat there, doubting her entire past; again. It had become routine by now. Wake up, brush your teeth, doubt your past, eat, doubt your past, train, doubt your past. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to break the habit at this point. And that might have been the scariest part of the whole ordeal.

After lunch, they went back down to training. Wrath was teaching them how to escape from someone's grasp, be it a chokehold, a simple twist of the arm, you name it. Atomic had a lot of fun practicing the techniques; at least, when she was the one escaping. The other way around... not so much.

Dinner was lasagne. The delivery girls sat with them for some reason, but Atomic tuned them out as she stared at the infirmary. Was he still in there? She was half-tempted to go up and check.

Desperately, she wanted to talk to him. If anyone could help her sort out her memory, it would be someone who was a part of it. Maybe he was an old friend of Silver's who would be able to tell her exactly how their relationship played out. That would be a dream come true, and she needed it.

That morning, she'd woken up with a dangerous thought. When had she fallen in love with Silver? She could remember meeting him, of talking to him in the institute, and of loving him afterward, but she couldn't pin the exact moment when she'd fallen for him, or anything between those two time periods. It had almost made her have a panic attack. How could she not remember that? It must've been the biggest moment in her life, and she couldn't remember a second of it.

God, would Silver be disappointed in her if he was here. She was pathetic. The voice in her head, who still visited her from time to time, was right; she was a pathetic excuse for a woman. Why had a man as perfect as Silver ever degraded himself by deciding to love her? She'd never know.

There was, of course, the very large chance that if she did talk to the mystery man, he'd force a bigger wedge into her memories, sending the few things she was sure of tumbling down into the abyss, but she didn't think about that. She didn't let herself. Because if she wasn't secure about the few memories she had... what would she have left?

It didn't matter anyway. She was never going to talk to that man. Whatever Vixen wanted from him she'd get, and then he'd be sent on his merry way, and she'd never see him again. That was probably for the best. If she didn't remember him, then he must not have been too important in the first place. It would be better if she kept dreaming about who he could have been, instead of learning the drab truth about what he really was. For both of them.

The other girls finished their meals and said goodbye, heading off to the bar. Atomic noticed that Psycho was holding hands with one of the delivery girls, a pretty one who looked Korean. She waved at them before finishing her lasagna and started to head back to bed. Lately, she'd been having vivid nightmares about Blade, his blackened, charred corpse torturing and tormenting her, so she needed all the sleep she could get.

So, of course, that was when Rebel stopped her on the top of the escalator. "Vixen wants to see you."

Atomic sighed and nodded, following the redhead to Vixen's room. The shorter girl was waiting for her, sitting on her desk.  
  
"Atomic!" she greeted, kicking her rollable chair out to her. "Take a seat!"  
  
She did as asked. What did Vixen want now? It seemed that there was always something that the shorter girl had to shovel onto her plate, as if there wasn't enough there to feed a family of four already. Might as well get this over with.

"I'm sure you've seen our newest guest," Vixen smiled, taking a sip of wine from her glass. Atomic swore, that girl never left her room without a glass in her hand.

"I have," Atomic confirmed. "Who is he?"  
  
"He's someone from your past," Vixen replied. "I'm not surprised that you don't remember him. He tracked you down somehow. Don't worry, my techs are figuring out how right at this moment. But that doesn't change the fact that he's here."

"What does he want with me?" Atomic asked.

"He says that he wants to talk," Vixen explained. "I would've denied his request myself, but then I thought that I should give you the option to talk to him if you want to. I know how much your memory gaps are bugging you. He might be able to help you with that. Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to."  
  
Atomic pondered over the idea for a few seconds. It would probably be better if she didn't take up on his offer, but her curiosity got the best of her. After all, there was a chance that he would help. "I'll do it. I'll talk to him."  
  
Vixen nodded. "Okay. I'll have Rebel take you to him. She'll be there the entire time, so if he tries anything, you'll be safe."  
  
Atomic nodded. Vixen smiled and opened the door for her. She walked out of the room to find Rebel waiting for her right outside.

Rebel took her back down to the ground store, and to what looked like an abandoned toy store. Bars lined the window, meeting up in the center of the room to form a complete cell. If anyone walked by, they'd be able to see right in.

Inside the cell was the man, sitting on the floor. He really was attractive, with his sharp jawline and carefully brushed hair. There was no way that Silver would've let this man near her; he would've been too jealous.

Rebel unlocked the cell and held the door open for her. Atomic stepped inside, acutely aware of the man's eyes on her, tracking her every move. She sat across from him.

The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds. The longer she stared at him, the more familiar he looked. Seeing him felt like returning home after a long trip; familiar and comforting. Kind of like looking at Ian made her look, but in a different, more intense way. 

"Mari," the man finally said, like he couldn't believe his eyes. There was a soft smile on his lips.

"That's not my name," she replied instantly.

His smile melted. "Then what is?"  
  
"Atomic," she responded, rubbing her arm. "That's my name. It's Atomic."

He sighed. "Is that what he chose for you?"  
  
"Who's he?" she asked.

"Wesley Johnson," the man replied. "The Silver Slayer."  
  
"Silver?" she squinted, trying to remember how she'd got her name. Thankfully, she still had the memory. "Yes. He did choose it for me."  
  
"Typical," the man muttered.

There was a long silence as they stared at each other again. She wanted to look away, to break eye contact, but something stopped her. His eyes were deep, dark, and calculating. If anything, the made him look even more beautiful, if that was even possible.

"Do you remember me?" he finally asked softly, breaking the silence.

It was an obvious question that she somehow had trouble answering. No, she didn't remember him; she didn't know his name, she couldn't recall any of the time they'd spent together, she couldn't place their relationship, and she didn't even know what time in her life she'd met him. But she knew his face, and the way seeing him made her feel was too strange to be accidental. It was like her subconscious knew everything about him and decided to keep that knowledge all to itself.

"No," she replied. "I'm sorry, but I don't."  
  
He sighed. "My name's Eugene. Eugene Lee Yang."  
  
 _Eugene._ That name rang bells, but in a church miles away. "Nice to meet you, Eugene."

"What do you think your relationship with him was like?" Eugene asked. "Your one with Silver."

Her heart stopped for a beat. "I- I loved him, and he loved me. We were happy together. He was the love of my life."  
  
Eugene scoffed. "Do you truly believe that?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I?" her heart was pounding. This was exactly what she'd been scared of; that he'd shatter everything she thought she knew about herself. But now that she'd gotten this far, she couldn't pull herself away.

"Because that is bullshit," he shook his head with a joyless smile painted on his lips. "Silver didn't love you. He loved the idea of you. You, Atomic, aren't real. Not really. You were his idea of a dream girl, so he moulded you into one. That isn't love. That's possession."  
  
"I don't believe you," she sputtered weakly, not even believing herself. She didn't know what to believe anymore.

"You know how I know?" he asked. "Because I loved you. Well, not you. Mari. I loved Mari Takahashi with everything I had. And I knew that she wasn't perfect, but I didn't care, because  _nobody_  is, and she wasn't made for me. That was the difference between Silver and I. He wanted his dream girl, and he'd do anything to get her. I saw Mari as who she was, and I loved her for that, not because I had some ideal version of her in my mind that I would do anything to make come to reality. That's what love is. Silver didn't even have a  _concept_  of it."

Atomic's breath caught in her throat. She kept telling herself that she shouldn't trust him, that Silver wasn't like that, that he'd never been like that, but they were empty words and she knew it. The truth was, she didn't know who Silver was. Maybe she never had.

But she was a person. No one had moulded her. She had been this way forever. Silver had just helped her realize that. Right?

"Why should I trust you?" she asked. "I don't even  _remember_  you."

He stared at her with those deep eyes again, sending a shiver through her spine. "Then I should jog your memory."

Before she even realized what was happening, his hand was on the back of her neck and he was leaning forward and _kissing_  her. 

Her eyes widened. His lips tasted familiar. Welcoming. Vaguely, she could see herself lying on a couch, her hand on the side of his face, kissing him.  _Eugene._

Rebel rushed in and threw him off her, kicking him in the side for good measure, but it was too late. The damage was done.

She remembered him. She remembered loving him, once.  _After_ Silver. Which meant  _everything_  she'd thought she'd known about the man she'd loved was wrong.


	23. Boze

Atomic couldn't still be talking to Eugene. It had been forty minutes since Boze sent her off with Rebel. There was no way that he could've filled up all that time and kept her interest. If he had told her anything about her past, anything detailed, against her relationship with Silver, she'd clam up and instantly remove herself from the situation. Boze had been a psychologist long enough to know that.

She'd have to hound Rebel for details of how the meeting had gone later tonight to get a clear idea of what had happened. That was why she had put the redhead in the situation in the first place. Boze knew that Eugene wouldn't have put Atomic in any real danger. Normal people didn't do that to people they loved.

Then she'd talk to Atomic tomorrow and get a clear idea of what the conversation had done to her condition. Eugene had played a far smaller role in her life than Ian had, so he probably wouldn't pull up many memories, if any of importance. The difference wouldn't be physical this time. Boze would have to talk to Atomic like a psychologist, and hope that Atomic didn't remember enough of her training to realize what she was doing.

Boze pulled up her notes on her laptop. She already had three thousand words worth of a report written on Atomic, and she was planning on adding to it. The purple-haired woman was her most important patient yet, and she intended to keep her treatment going as smoothly as possible. Her plan wasn't complete yet, but the few steps she already had were written down perfectly.

After Eugene, she was going to bring in Courtney. Atomic had instantly known who she was after she was arrested, so she'd trust at least some of the words that came out of her mouth. It would be the first person yet that Atomic already knew and remembered, so the way she reacted to Courtney would be very telling. From there, she'd figure out who else to bring into her little game; her parents, perhaps, or her ex-fiancèe. Whichever was easier.

Suddenly, Boze heard a knock on the door. She quickly closed her laptop. "Come in!"

No one ever knocked on her door unless they had permission. That was, unless they didn't have a complete knowledge of the way things worked here, so Boze knew who it was even before the door opened.

"Hey, Vixen?" Atomic poked her head around the doorframe. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Of course!" Boze smiled. "Come on in! I'll get us some wine."

So she wouldn't have to wait until tomorrow, it seemed. She already had conjured up some questions to ask Atomic, thankfully, so she was prepared. Atomic initiating the conversation would make it a bit harder to slip into the exchange, but she was a licensed psychologist; she'd manage.

She grabbed some wine out of her mini fridge and poured each of them a glass. Atomic took her's as she sat down on Boze's bed. Seeing as she made no move to drink it, Boze assumed that she'd just taken it to be polite.

"What's up?" Boze asked, doing the complete opposite and taking a big swig out of her glass.

"Can I ask you a few questions?" Atomic asked. "About... Silver?"

Boze paused for a few seconds. She hadn't been expecting that. What had Eugene said to her? "What kind of questions?"  
  
"Well, Eugene said some things, back there, that were... confusing," Atomic replied. "I just want to sort some things out."  
  
"What kind of things?" Boze asked.

"Well, for starters," Atomic kept her eyes on her glass. She was rotating her wrist, making the wine swirl around, hitting the sides from time to time. If that girl got any wine on her bed... "How did Silver and I meet?"  
  
Boze raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember that?"  
  
"No, I do," Atomic's breath hitched. "At least, I _think_ I do. I honestly don't know what to believe anymore. I just want to... make sure, if that makes sense."

"I understand," Boze replied, already making mental notes. "You and Silver met back in the institute, when you were Dr. Takahashi and he was a patient. Or prisoner. Both of the terms work."  
  
"And I was assigned to his case?" Atomic asked.

Boze nodded. "After all of our coworkers, beside me, already had a swing at him. Ian thought that having a woman talk to him would break down his defences. Not that he came up with that alone, though. I put that thought in his head."  
  
"You were my coworker?" Atomic looked confused.  
  
"Do you not remember me?" Boze asked, genuinely surprised. She'd assumed that because Atomic remembered Courtney, she remembered all of them. Obviously, she'd been wrong.  
  
"No," Atomic shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't."  
  
"Who do you remember, then?" Boze asked, leaning back in her chair, itching to type this all down.

"Courtney," Atomic replied instantly. "Joven. And Ian, though not very well."  
  
No Damien, either? Interesting. Boze would've pegged it down as her forgetting everyone who'd betrayed her, but that would've eliminated Joven. Then again, Joven had nothing to do with the electroshock treatment, which was undoubtedly more traumatic than what he'd done.

What even had he done, again? Given Wes some files on Mari and tagged along when Officer Risner hijacked a helicopter before getting shot in the head? What a pathetic excuse of a betrayal. Joven had probably just done it so he could have the _satisfaction_  of knowing he helped some deranged murderers, but never having to put any skin in the game himself. Boze didn't agree with many of Wes' actions, but shooting Joven had been the best call he'd ever made.

"You don't remember Damien either?" Boze shrugged. "That's strange."  
  
"I don't remember anyone named Damien," Atomic furrowed her brow.

Yet another person she could bring in. Damien would be an easy one; she wouldn't even have to kidnap his husband. Heck, she'd spoken to him just last night, and figured out that he was Dr. Topp-Haas now.

Then again, the kidnapping was often times the best part. It was why she was looking forward to Courtney so much.

"Well, he didn't spend much time with you, so that might explain it," Boze replied.

"Did you spend a lot of time with me?" Atomic asked.

Boze shrugged. "We weren't super close or anything, but I spent enough time with you that I'd consider each other friends."

It wasn't a lie. She had known Mari enough to call her a friend. It was why she missed her as much as she did.

"Then why can't I remember you?" Atomic asked.

"You're the only one who has the answer to that, Atomic," Boze responded, taking a sip of her wine.

"How did Silver break out?" Atomic asked suddenly. "Out of the institute. I can't remember a second of that."

"He had help from the outside," Boze explained. "From Night Rider and I. Do you remember Night Rider?"  
  
Atomic shook her head.

"He was one of Silver's friends," Boze replied. "He's dead, so it doesn't matter much anymore, I suppose. Anyways, Night Rider blew his way into the institute, literally, and let him out. Meanwhile, I was freeing all the other inmates. The surrounding chaos of having all those serial killers running around uncontested caused enough of a panic with security to let Silver squeeze through the cracks."  
  
"And where was I, during this?" Atomic asked, tilting her head.

Boze paused for a few seconds. What lie could she possibly conjure up to answer her? She could say that she escaped like Courtney, out a window, but then Atomic would ask how she and Silver met up again, and what would she say to that? Act like he never kidnapped her? And then how would she explain him going to prison? She couldn't say that he hadn't, as Atomic would ask why he didn't talk to her for over a year. The timeline was too complicated to come up with on the spot.

Or, maybe, she actually wanted to tell her the truth.

"Hiding, running, and unconscious," Boze explained, downing the rest of her wine. She'd need it.

"What?" Atomic asked.

"When Silver first broke out, you hid in Dr. Hecox's office," Boze replied, banking on the fact that Atomic didn't know Ian's last name. "He found you, of course, and then you tried to run away, but he found you again and pumped you full of anesthesia."  
  
"Why would he need to do that?" Atomic looked more confused than she'd ever seen her.

"To stop you from struggling," Boze explained.

Atomic's eyes widened. "He...  _kidnapped_  me?"  
  
"Twice," Boze nodded. "Well, four times if you count the ones where he held a hostage over you."  
  
"A hostage?" Atomic shouted. "What? What hostage? What are you talking about?"

"After he broke out, he tried to brainwash you," Boze explained, smiling. "I gave him faulty information, though, so of course it didn't work. You put us all in jail with your beautiful acting skills. The second time was after he broke out, but then you escaped and met Eugene, so he kidnapped him to force you to come back. Otherwise, you would've been in Japan by now."

"No," Atomic muttered. "No, you're lying."

"Why would I?" Boze asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's what happened Atomic."  
  
"He would never do that to me," Atomic replied angrily. "Never! He loved me!"

"You know why you don't have the memories to back that up, Atomic?" Boze grinned. "You want to know how you got those burns? It was him. He was the one who hooked you up to that machine and-"  
  
"No!" Atomic screamed, shooting to her feet. "No! You're lying!"  
  
"Trust me, Atomic," Boze explained. "Silver was a sexist, ruthless, sloppy murderer who didn't deserve you. He's better off dead."  
  
Boze was aware of how stupid the decision to tell the truth had been. For once in her life, she hadn't been thinking straight, calculating her every move. God, what was she, a sociopath?

The look on Atomic's face, however, the one of pure confusion, anger, and doubt, almost made it all worth it. Almost.

Atomic stared at her, breathing heavily, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. Boze stared right back. They stayed like that for a few seconds, neither of them breaking eye contact with one another.

Then Atomic's eyes widened as realization washed over her face. She stopped breathing for a second. "It- it was  _you!_  You killed him! You killed Silver!"

Boze smiled. "Yes. I did."

There was a look of absolute betrayal on Atomic's face. She looked like she'd been punched. Her hand shot to her mouth, and she stumbled backwards, almost falling back onto the bed. Tears filled her eyes.

Then she lunged forwards, her hands going straight for Boze's throat. She'd been expecting that, and kicked back, rolling away just in time. Atomic stopped herself before she hit her desk, and Boze shot to her feet.

Atomic wasted no time before balling her hands into fists and coming at her. Boze did the same, ready for a fight. A year ago, she might have been a bit nervous. But that was before prison, and when her former-boxer cellmate hadn't been fucking her, she'd been teaching her how to fight. Boze had this in the bag.

Wrath had certainly taught her a few things. Atomic kept her own, dodging and blocking all of Boze's attacks and combating them with a few of her own. It was only entertaining for so long, though, and Boze tired of the act quickly.

She sidestepped, hooking her foot under Atomic's, making her opponent fall to the ground. Before Atomic could get up, she pressed her knee into her back and wrapped her arm around her throat and squeezed. Atomic struggled for a few seconds before going limp.

Once she was sure that Atomic was out cold, she took out her phone and called Rebel. The redhead appeared a few minutes later. Boze watched as she threw Atomic over her shoulder and walked out with her, down to secure her in the prison that Eugene had been removed from a few minutes prior, to finally talk to his sister. They couldn't let Atomic walk around anymore; if they did, she wouldn't hesitate to attack Boze again.

A wrench had been thrown in her plans, but Boze wasn't worried. She was very flexible when it came to planning. And now that she didn't have to worry about Atomic catching onto her, things were about to get a lot more... intense.

Boze sat down and pulled up her notes, deleting her old plan and getting started with her new one. She wasn't going to bring in Courtney now. At least, not yet. 

No; it was her turn now.


	24. Atomic

Atomic came back to consciousness wearily, blinking the darkness out of her eyes.

She found herself in the same jail cell that Eugene had been in, with a few differences. Two chairs and a table had been added, mocking the setup between psychologists and patients that she was so used to. One of the chairs, which was across from her, was empty. The other one contained her.

There were thick leather straps fastening her wrists to the armrests and her ankles to the legs of the chair. A gag was fastened around her mouth, though she couldn't see what it looked like. For a few seconds, she struggled against her bonds, but they didn't budge. She wasn't Silver; there was no way she was strong enough to bust herself out. In other words, she was absolutely trapped.

A few girls had been standing outside the glass, staring at her as if she were a zoo animal, but they scattered as soon as she looked at them. Psycho and Rage had been amongst them. It would have hurt if she actually cared about them.

Why was she here? What had she done? As far as she remembered, Vixen and her hadn't had any disagreements, and she hadn't broken any rules. Even if she had, it seemed a bit over the top to strap her down like this. It wasn't like she was going to-

That was when it all came rushing back. Every detail of her conversation with Vixen reappeared in her mind. How she'd lied to her about Silver, and admitted to killing him.

Oh, God, she killed him! Vixen killed Silver! This whole time, she thought that Vixen was on her side when she had been anything but. That girl had taken Silver from her and then played her like a fiddle, making her do all her dirty work while she sat in her room drinking wine. It was like a game of chess; she had been a pawn, Vixen the player, and Atomic had played along beautifully.

She'd never even  _thought_  about the possibility of Vixen killing Silver, of what she had to gain from doing so. That had been foolish. Silver had had a lot of influence in their world, and had been brash. He was a threat to Vixen's power and authority. So she'd taken him out. It had been a smart move on her part. And by doing so, she'd gained what mattered to Silver most;  _her._

Atomic felt like an idiot. She was an idiot. If she'd just thought critically for one second, on what Vixen had to gain from Silver's death and how she had been so prepared to have her join her girls, on why she had only "figured out" that Blade had killed Silver after he attacked her, then she wouldn't have let herself get used by the girl who took  _everything_  from her.

Instead, she had let herself get distracted by shiny outfits and a promise of revenge, and now she was here, strapped to a chair, at the mercy of the girl she'd just tried to kill. Things weren't looking good for her right about now. She doubted that they ever would again.

The doors to the jail flung open, and in walked the demoness herself. Vixen was wearing a lab coat and had her hair pulled back, mimicking the dress code back at the institute. In her hands was a clipboard, but Atomic assumed that was more for the act than actually writing anything down. She was alone.

Vixen walked up to the door of Atomic's cell and pulled out a keyring, unlocking the door quickly and shutting it behind her. She made her way to the other chair and sat down, scooting as close to the table as she could without pressing her stomach into the wood. When she laid the clipboard down on the table, Atomic noticed that the top page was blank.

She pulled out a tape recorder and placed it between them. Atomic knew that it was a taunt. So close, yet there was no way for her to bat it away. After all, there was no use for it; if Vixen was planning on taking out her gag, she would've done it already.

"Hello, Atomic," Vixen smiled. "How are we today?"  
  
Atomic yelled a variety of curses at her at the top of her lungs, but the gag muffled them all. Vixen's smile widened.

"A bit under the weather, are we?" Vixen tsked. "That's too bad."  
  
A tear slipped out of Atomic's eye as she started pulling at her bonds, desperately trying to escape. There was nothing she wanted to so more than lunge at her captor, to wrap her hands around her smooth throat and squeeze until she stopped moving, and then some more. She wanted to beat her until her face was unrecognizable, and her skin turned red. More than anything, she wanted Vixen to feel the pain that she'd caused her.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Vixen's smile was taunting and mischevious. Atomic tried to propel herself forwards, only to find that the chair had been taped to the ground.

Vixen reached into one of the lab coat's pockets and pulled out an object, placing it on the table in between them. It was a book.  _The Inner Mind of a Sociopath._ The cover was a picture of a ballerina who looked suspiciously like...  _her._  She figured out why when she saw the author's name; Mariko Takahashi. Her dead name.

She'd written this book. And, like always, she didn't remember a word of it.

"I doubt that you remember writing this," Vixen picked the book back up after making sure that she got a good look at it. "Let's revamp your memory, shall we? It really is an interesting read."

Vixen opened the book and flipped to the first page as she started walking back and forth across the room. Atomic knew that she was doing it to keep her attention, and it was working. She found herself not being able to look away. Deep down, she knew that it was because she  _wanted_  to know what that book contained, though she'd never admit it.

"The best place to start is always the beginning," Vixen grinned as she started to read.

"If you asked me ten years ago where I would end up, I would have told you on a stage, dancing. Ever since I was a young girl, I wanted to be a ballerina. I used to watch recitals, imagining myself in their shoes, dreaming of the day that I would be able to move like they did. It was all I ever wanted. And yet, somehow, I ended up here. Going into psychology is my biggest regret... and my greatest tragedy.

"The day my life changed forever was the day my boss, and best friend, Ian called me into his office to discuss our newest patient; Wesley Johnson. You probably know him as the Silver Slayer, the serial killer who tortured and killed multiple young women. We'd finally caught him. Now, we wanted to break him, to see what made him tick, what made him the way he was. The only problem was the fact that none of us could get in his head.

"The hope was that putting a woman on his case would lower his defences, make him more comfortable. All of his victims were women, after all; it was obvious that he didn't see us as a threat. And seeing as I had the best track record out of all the women working in the asylum, Ian decided to put me on the case. Then I made the stupidest decision in my life; I accepted the assignment."  
  
Vixen paused for a few seconds. "Is this ringing any bells, Atomic?"

She didn't respond; not verbally, not psychically. This had accomplished nothing. She already remembered accepting the case. The memory had come back with all the other ones she had of Ian. Calling it the stupidest decision in her life though? That was new.

"Let's turn to a more... interesting part then, shall we?" it was then that Atomic noticed all the bookmarks that Vixen had placed amongst the pages of the book. She must've spent hours putting them there, selecting the passages that would be the most effective against her. "Here we are. Maybe this will be a bit more  _effective._

"You never truly fear death until it stares you in the face. You might have an idea of it, of how terrifying and horrific it really is, but you'll never see it the way it is until death is knocking on your door. Having a deranged madman trying to find you in the middle of a prison break... that was my first experience with that fear.

"The worst part was waiting. Ian and I were trapped, in his office. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The barricade he'd set up, one of his filing cabinets that's he'd laid on its side, wouldn't last long against Wes. We were sitting ducks, hoping that the sociopath wouldn't find us. But I have never been very lucky.

"Wes found us easily. All Ian and I could do was watch as he threw his body weight against the door, our barricade moving with each hit. Ian bodyslammed the door and locked it, impeding Wes' progress, but not for long. Wes bodyslammed the door a few more times until the wood splint, and he shot the lock, shattering it easily and forcing his way inside.

"The only thing between the two of us was Ian, trying to use his body as a blockade. He gave me an ultimatum; either I come with him, or he shoots Ian. For some reason, it didn't click in my head that he was serious, that Ian would actually die. Death had never been a part of my world; Ian dying seemed as impossible as the sun revolving around the earth. So I resisted.

"And he shot Ian in the head."

Atomic's heart stopped for a beat. No. No, that couldn't be right. Silver didn't kill Ian. It- it must've been someone else. It couldn't have been him! It couldn't have been!  
  
Vixen smiled at the look of shock on her face. "Interesting, isn't it? How you didn't remember that? I have one more section I'd like to read to you."  
  
She flipped to another page. "He left me like that for days. Music blaring, chains scratching, my only comfort the cold hard steel pressed against my tongue. I managed to tear some cloth off of my shirt and shove it in my ears to give myself some sleep, but that didn't make up for the loneliness or fear that was coursing through me.

"Being left alone to my thoughts like that was the worst part. I couldn't think of my dead best friend, or the parents that must be worried sick about me. Those thoughts were too painful, too depressing to focus on. Instead, I tried to distract myself with simple ideas; how nice my next shower would feel, how tasty all of my favourite foods would be, how sweet my childhood dreams were. Those thoughts were the only things keeping me sane, stopping me from screaming; not for help, but for myself, to let all of my rage and fear and grief echo around me, a reminder of my pain for only me to hear."

Vixen shut the book. "That's enough for today, I think. Don't want to read it all today, do we?"

She smiled and grabbed her clipboard, leaving the tape recorder exactly where it was, still rolling. Atomic watched as she walked out the door and locked it behind her before leaving the abandoned shop altogether, probably off to drink some more wine.

Atomic hung her head, breathing hard. None of that could be true. It couldn't be! Silver hadn't killed Ian, and he hadn't tortured her. She would've remembered him doing that; she was sure of it.

Vixen had already proved that she was untrustworthy. She'd probably written that book herself; she was certainly psychotic enough to enjoy thinking about her suffering. 

Yes, that was it. Vixen was lying straight through her teeth. Everything she said was a lie. Atomic couldn't believe a word she said, even if it came from that book. All she was trying to do was make her doubt herself, and Atomic wouldn't let her.

She'd play her little game. But this time, she wasn't going to be her pawn. This time, she was going to be her opponent.


	25. Boze

It had been a week. A week of having Atomic strapped to that chair. A week of reading her own book to her, trying to elicit some sort of response from her.

Boze knew that Atomic wouldn't listen to a word she said. If she had told Atomic straight-up everything that Wes had done to her, she wouldn't have believed her. By reading the book to her, she'd hoped that Atomic would take some of the words as fact, and that it would jog her memory. But from what she'd seen and observed, Atomic was exactly the same as she was when Boze first strapped her to that chair; memories and all.

If she had to make a psych evaluation, she'd say that Atomic had completely blocked herself off to everything she said. That she'd convinced herself that every word Boze said was untrue to the point where she didn't even listen anymore. By this point, Boze knew that she wasn't going to get anywhere with her. There was no point in talking to her anymore. It was a waste of her time.

Heck, it wasn't even fun anymore. Without actually having any effect on Atomic, reading the passages from her book wasn't entertaining. In their last session, she'd taken off Atomic's gag, fully expecting her to yell at her but wanting to elicit some sort of reaction from her. Atomic hadn't even said a word. It was like her mind was wandering in another plane of existence from how detached from reality she seemed every time Boze entered the room.

In other words, it was time to change tactics. And Boze knew exactly what her next move would be.

"You in place?" she said into her handheld transceiver which she refused to call a walkie-talkie.

"Yes," came Chaos' reply through the static. "When will she be arriving?"

"Any second now," Boze replied. Chaos had wanted to say "over" at the end of every transmission, but Boze had banned her from doing so. It may have been the best decision she'd made in her life.

She was crouched behind the asylum she once worked in. They'd repaired the wall that Night Rider had blown in during Wes' escape, and security was tighter. You couldn't look in any of the few buildings the institute had without seeing the blue of a security guard's uniform. Not that Boze minded; they weren't trying to get in the building, after all. They were waiting for someone to come out of it.

Chaos was waiting in a car behind their target. When she saw her, she was going to contact Boze immediately, and then she'd grab her. Even if a security guard saw them, they'd be gone before they could do anything about it. The plan was simple, but it was reliable.

"She's here," Chaos' voice came in through the transmitter's speaker. "Making her way to her car."

"Is she there yet?" Boze asked.

"Finding her keys in her pocket," Chaos replied. "You've got about twenty seconds, I'd say."

Boze sprung into action. She pulled her hood over her head, making sure her face was concealed, and jogged out onto the dimly-lit streets. Why anyone would work the night shift, she had no idea. It was something she'd always tried to avoid when she'd worked there.

Dr. Sui was standing outside of her small car, ruffling around in her pockets. Boze made a beeline to her. Just when she found her keys and moved to open her car, Boze made her move and threw her hand over her mouth.

The cloth she was holding didn't have chloroform on it (that chemical was too dangerous to use without accidentally poisoning the victim), but Dr. Sui definitely thought it did, as she held her breath. She struggled against Boze's grip, but it was no use; Boze was far stronger than her, and it was quite easy to drag her back to the getaway car.

Boze quickly opened the side door and forced Dr. Sui in before climbing in herself. The second the door was closed, Chaos slammed her foot on the gas pedal. By the time the first security guard ran out of the institute, they were gone.

Dr. Sui instantly reached for the door handle. She knew who Boze was, after all, and she knew what she helped do to Mari. Jumping out of a moving car must seem like an amazing choice compared to the alternative. Of course, Boze wasn't planning on frying her brain, but Dr. Sui didn't know that. For all she knew, she wanted to use her blood as moisturizer.

Boze didn't feel like wrestling her at the moment, so she drew her gun and pressed it into the back of Dr. Sui's head. The second her victim felt the bite of the cold steel against her skin, she stilled.

"Dr. Sui!" Boze grinned. "How nice of you to join us! Please, take a seat!"

Seeing as she wasn't an idiot, Dr. Sui knew better than to continue resisting. Slowly, she turned and sat down in the seat next to Boze. Just to make sure, Boze reached over and drew the seatbelt over her chest, clicking it into place.

"What do you want with me?" Dr. Sui's voice trembled. She wasn't her fiancèe, after all. The amount of experience she had with psychopaths was as nonexistent as Boze's sense of empathy.

"Oh, I don't want anything to do with you, darling," Boze explained. "I just want a... favour from your fiancèe. I'm sure you understand why I couldn't just go up to her and ask her for one."

A look of utter fear washed over Dr. Sui's face. "What are you going to do to her?"

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Boze assured her. "As long as you behave yourself, both you and Courtney are going to come out of this fine. So how about you hold out your wrists so I can put this gun away."

Shaking, Dr. Sui did as she asked, holding her arms out in front of her. Boze reached into her pocket and pulled out the pair of handcuffs she'd brought, clicking them onto the black-haired woman's wrists, before putting her gun back in its holster.

"There we go," she smiled. "I have a feeling that you and I will get along perfectly, doctor."

• • •

Boze watched from the other side of the one-way glass as Dr. Sui talked to Courtney on the phone, making sure that she didn't say anything that she wasn't supposed to. Not that it was too big of a concern of her's; Dr. Sui had cooperated nicely with everything she said so far. Nothing like threatening a loved one to make someone do what you really want.

"I'm fine, Court. They haven't hurt me," Boze could hear Dr. Sui through the microphone she had set up in the room. "She wants you for something. I don't know what. You have to be home at 7:30 tonight. That's all she told me. If you involve the police, she'll- she'll kill me. I love you too, Courtney."

Then she hung up. Boze unlocked the door and walked in, taking the phone back before leaving. With Atomic taking up the jail cell, they had to make do with keeping Dr. Sui in there. Psycho and Rage stood guard, making sure that she didn't try and break the glass. Boze had made it very clear to Dr. Sui that if she tried anything, she'd get a bullet to the brain.

For the next few hours, Boze worked on her notes on Atomic, recording every observation she'd made and every reaction she'd had. She'd already made an evaluation on Atomic's state of mind, so the notes were unnecessary, but it was a good way to pass the time nonetheless.

Then, at 8:08, she got a text from Rebel. She's here.

Boze made her way out of her room and down to the cafeteria. Rebel had already emerged from the parking lot by then, toting their "guest" behind her. Courtney still had a bag over her head, but Boze could tell from her body and clothing that they had the right woman.

It reminded her of Eugene, surprisingly. She'd barely even though of him recently. Currently, he was locked in one of her guestrooms; she didn't know if she'd need him again, and it would be too much of a hassle to bring him back if she let him go, so for the time being, he wasn't going anywhere.

She nodded at Rebel, and the redhead ripped the bag off of Courtney's head. It took her "guest" a couple of seconds to adjust to the light. When her eyes finally did, she stared right at Boze.

"Where's Olivia?" the blonde demanded. She looked diffrent then the last time she'd seen her. Stronger, but also extremely tired. There was no doubt that Mari's transformation into Atomic had taken a mental toll on her. She probably blamed herself. "Where are you keeping her?"

"You'll see her in a bit, Courtney," Boze replied. "I need to talk to you first."

Courtney growled. "I don't have anything to say to you."

"That's your choice," Boze shrugged before holding up her phone. "But if you refuse to, I'll have your fiancèe shot with a press of a button. The choice is your's."

Rage burned in Courtney's eyes, but she relented. Boze smiled and started walking towards the meeting room. Rebel followed, pulling Courtney along with her.

Boze sat down as soon as they arrived and grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring each of them a glass. Rebel had to force Courtney to sit down, and when Boze pushed her glass across the table, she didn't touch it.

"What do you want with me?" Courtney asked angrily, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Can I not just talk to an old friend?" Boze joked.

Courtney scowled. "We're not friends."

Boze brought a hand to her heart in mock offence. "You wound me, Courtney."

Her fellow psychologist didn't laugh. "Why am I here, Ericka? What do you need from me?"

"First off, never call me Ericka again," Boze replied, her playful demeanour gone. "And the reason why you're here? Well, it's because I need your help, Dr. Miller."

"What could I possibly do that you couldn't do yourself?" Courtney asked suspiciously.

"I need you to talk to Atomic," Boze explained. "She doesn't trust me anymore."

"Atomic?" Courtney asked.

"Mari," Boze replied.

Courtney's eyes widened. "Mari? You have Mari?"

"I've had Mari for the past month," Boze rolled her eyes. "Who else would've busted her out, Courtney?"

"Wesley Johnson, " Courtney replied.

Boze chuckled. She'd forgotten that the public didn't know he was dead. "Wesley is dead, Courtney."

"And who killed him?" Courtney asked. "You?"

"Does it matter?" Boze responded, taking a sip of her wine.

"Why do you want me to talk to Mari?" Courtney asked, changing the topic. "I know that you helped make her the way she is today. My goal is to bring her back. You know that. Why would you want me to talk to her?"

Boze leaned forwards. "Because, for once in a long time, Courtney, our goals align."

Courtney looked shocked. "You- you want Mari back too? Why?"

"My reasons are none of your concern," Boze replied sharply. "This is what's going to happen Courtney. I will release your fiancèe if, and only if, you can bring Mari back. You have a choice; either try to achieve that, or let Olivia die. Do you need some time to think about it, or have you already made your decision?"

"We both know what my answer's going to be, Er- Vixen," Courtney looked defeated. "I'll talk to Atomic."

"Great!" Boze put her glass down. "Rebel will show you to your room. Your first session with Atomic will be tomorrow."

"When will I get to see Olivia?" Courtney asked, desperation shining in her eyes. God, she must be so worried right now.

"Tomorrow," Boze replied. "If you do a good job with Atomic, that is."

Courtney closed her eyes and took a deep breath, probably to stop herself from crying. When she opened her eyes, she instantly reached for her wine and drank it all in one gulp, before walking outside to meet Rebel. Boze watched her go with a smile.

If anyone would have any success with Atomic, it was her. The only question now was just how successful she'd be.


	26. Atomic

Every part of her ached.

She hadn't moved in over a week. Her back was sore, her muscles were tight, and her neck was exhausted. The second she got out of here, she was going to go on the longest goddamn run she'd ever gone on in her life.

Over the past few days, she'd mastered blocking herself off to the outside world. Whenever Vixen spoke, she could barely hear her. She retreated into her own brain, mulling over her memories with Silver; the good ones. The ones she knew were real.

Maybe that was why Vixen hadn't shown up yesterday for their daily sessions. She probably knew that her words weren't having any impact on her anymore. Hopefully, it meant that she gave up. Atomic certainly wouldn't miss their little talks. Whatever Vixen had planned next, at least it wouldn't involve looking at her face.

Not that Vixen was ugly. Quite the opposite, really. Vixen was one of the most attractive girls0 that Atomic had ever seen. But knowing what she knew about her had tainted her features somewhat, like she was looking at her through a funhouse mirror. If she had the choice, she'd choose to never look at her again.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Rebel walked in. Vixen kept the door unlocked now, to tempt her, so Rebel walked straight into her cell. That in itself wasn't unusual; Rebel was the one that brought her her food. But Rebel didn't have any food in her hands this time.

The redhead walked behind her and tugged on her gag. For a few seconds, Atomic had no idea what she was doing, but she figured it out as soon as Rebel had the clasp unfastened. Rebel slid the gag out of her mouth and dropped it on the table before leaving, not looking Atomic in the eye once during the entire exchange.

Atomic opened and closed her jaw a few times, trying to get rid of the soreness. What was going on? Vixen had taken off her gag once, but she'd done it herself. There was no reason for her to get Rebel to do it for her. From what she'd seen of Vixen, she only ever had other people do things for her if she couldn't do them herself.

Something was going on.

Excitement and uneasiness bubbled in her stomach. What was going to happen to her now? She couldn't see how it could get much worse than it already was, but Vixen was a psychopath, after all. For all Atomic knew she was about to be beaten by every girl in the Compound, and Vixen wanted to hear her screams. You never knew with her.

She shot a glance at the girls watching her through her through the window. They didn't bother to run away anymore. That was the whole reason the jail had glass walls, after all; so everyone could see the inmates shame through their bars. Atomic was busy remembering all their faces. Once she got out of these chains... those girls would regret the day they were born.

All of them were looking off to the right, at something Atomic couldn't see. All she could do was sit patiently, waiting. A few seconds later, the doors opened, and in walked the last person Atomic expected.

Okay, well, she would've expected Donald Trump less, but still. She was surprised. 

It was a blonde girl, wearing a lab coat. But it wasn't just any blonde girl; it was  _Courtney._

Atomic's eyes widened. What the Hell was she doing here? Courtney wasn't a part of Vixen's world; not by a longshot. Why had Vixen summoned her, of all people? All she wanted to do was turn her back into Mari, to the person she was before Silver. What could Vixen possibly gain by-

That was when it clicked. Suddenly, everything made sense. Why Vixen had let her figure out that it was her who killed Silver. Why she'd been reading her passages from her book, trying to get her to remember her past.

There was only one reason why she would have Courtney talk to her.  _Vixen wants Mari back too._

"Mari?" Courtney stopped on the other side of the cell wall. There was a look of disbelief on her face, like she couldn't believe she was actually there, in front of her. Her mouth broke out in a smile. She looked like she wanted to rush forward and give Atomic a hug.

"That's not my name," Atomic's voice sounded weak, even to her. Originally, she'd been looking forward to her sessions with Courtney. But that was back in the asylum. She didn't want to talk to Courtney now. Not like this.

"Atomic," Courtney's smile wavered for a second. "I can't believe you're actually here."

"Trust me, Sweetheart, I wish I wasn't," Atomic grumbled. Seeing Courtney gave her a bit of confidence. After all, the last time she'd seen Courtney, Silver had been alive. Seeing her brought back that feeling of comfort and safety that knowing he was out there brought, the one that she missed so, so much.

Courtney rushed in, pushing her way past the cell door and taking the seat across from her. Atomic was acutely aware of the tape recorder lying between them now. Unlike last time, there was no asking for it to be removed.

"Are you okay?" Courtney asked, resting her hands on the table. "Did she hurt you?"  
  
"No," Atomic replied simply.

"You never answered my question from our last... meeting," Courtney stated. "Where did you get those burn marks on the side of your head?"  
  
"I..." Vixen's words rang in her head, but Atomic refused to believe them. Silver couldn't have done that to her. "I don't know."  
  
"I'm sure you recognize them as electroshock therapy scars," Courtney said. Atomic nodded. "In the time you've been gone, I've been looking into every place that has an electroshock machine. They're a bitch to get ahold of on the black market, so I assumed that the machine used must belong to an asylum, and seeing as you were arrested here in L.A, I looked into ours. Sure enough, the footage from the electroshock room was missing for May 13th and May 15th."

Atomic tilted her head, confused as to where she was going with this. She wanted to figure out who did this just as much as Courtney did, but she doubted that Courtney could've figured out much.

"So I did some more digging. One of the security guards is Olivia's half-sister, so I was able to do some things... illegally. On May 13th, all of the footage for the entire asylum was missing. But on the 15th, it was  _only_  the electroshock room. I managed to get my hands on the security footage for the hall leading to the room, and I found  _this._ "

She pulled a photo out of her pocket and unfolded it, flattening it down on the table. It was a blurry picture of a large man holding what looked like an unconscious short girl in his arms, walking away from the electroshock room.

"How did you get this past Vixen?" Atomic asked.

"I keep it on me at all times," Courtney lied. In reality, Vixen had let her print it out from her google drive. But Vixen had explained exactly what Atomic thought of her to the blonde, and she didn't dare say her name out of fear of screwing everything up. "Anyways, you can't make out any facial features from this photo, obviously, so I couldn't just stop there. I tried to adjust the photo myself; raising the brightness, those sorts of things. It didn't work. Thankfully, Olivia's ex-boyfriend, James, was a photographer, and they had a clean breakup, so he helped me out. The finished result was this."

She pulled another photo out of her pocket and laid it on the table. The people in the photo were unmistakable. The girl was her, and the man was... Silver.

It was definitely him. She would recognize that face anywhere, and she recognized it here. The man had his hair, eyes, jawline, mouth, nose, chin, everything. There was no way that it wasn't him.

She couldn't believe her eyes. It couldn't be Silver! He couldn't have done this to her! Just the thought of him hurting her, of giving her all the memory gaps she'd been struggling with lately, was unthinkable. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't!

"It was Wes, Ma- Atomic," Courtney pointed at his form on the picture. "He electrocuted you. He gave you those scars."  
  
"No," Atomic shook her head. "No, he didn't."  
  
"Then why is he in this photo, Atomic?" Courtney asked.

Atomic didn't have an answer. She wished that her hands were free, so she could grab the photo and inspect it more carefully, just to make sure that it was him. 

There had to be another explanation for this. Courtney wanted Mari back desperately. What was stopping her from lying about this? She had a professional photographer and editor on her side. Why couldn't she photoshop Silver's face onto this man's torso? His mugshot provided a very clear photo of him. It wouldn't be too difficult for someone who knew what they were doing.

And even if it was real, that didn't necessarily mean that Silver was the one who shocked her. He probably swooped in as it was happening and killed the person who did it to her, disposed of the body to make sure that he wasn't caught, and carried her to safety. He probably nursed her to health, and when she woke up with no recollection of the event, decided not to bring it up to spare her the stress of knowing what happened to her.

Yes, that was it. He hadn't done this to her, he'd _saved_  her. Courtney was just reading the situation wrong. There was no way for her to know what really happened in that room. She was just jumping to conclusions; she didn't know Silver like Atomic did. If she knew how much he'd loved her, she never would've even suggested that.

A smile spread across her face, making a look of confusion pass over Courtney's. Thank God that Courtney had shown her this. Now she had  _proof_  that Silver cared about her just as much as she'd always known he had.

"So, how are you and Olivia?" Atomic asked, her voice cheerful.

Courtney's jaw was ajar. "We're... we're good."  
  
"That's good," Atomic grinned. "I'm so happy for you. Have either of you popped the question yet, or are you saving that moment?"  
  
"I... I proposed," Courtney responded, looking dazed. She still hadn't comprehended the change in Atomic's attitude. This was  _not_  how she'd expected this meeting to go.

Atomic moved her hands as if to clap, but the leather straps reminded her of their existence by rudely not letting her. "Oh, that's beautiful! I'm so proud of you, Courtney. That takes a lot of courage. Where'd you do it? The beach? The forest? The cafè where you had your first kiss? Give me the details, girl!"  
  
"It- it was the beach," Courtney explained numbly. "At sunset. She loves sunsets."  
  
"Did you have a good dinner beforehand?" Atomic asked, completely invested in their conversation. God, did she  _love_  love. Truthfully, Courtney and Olivia were relationship goals.

She'd only ever had one girlfriend before, back when she was Mari, and they only lasted three months. Courtney and Olivia had been together ever since Olivia started working at the asylum three and a half years ago. Mari hadn't even been with  _Peter_  for that long.

"We had tacos," Courtney replied. "At the restau0rant we had our first date in."  
  
"Oh, please tell me you planned that," Atomic smiled.

"I did," Courtney responded. "Listen, I- I have to go. Vixen only gave me thirty minutes."

"But we were just getting started!" Atomic protested.

"We'll continue this tomorrow," Courtney replied. "Goodbye."  
  
"Do I not get a hug first?" Atomic asked.

Courtney stared at her for a few seconds before walking forward and wrapping her arms around her neck loosely, releasing her quickly afterward. "See you tomorrow, Court!"  
  
The blonde nodded, still looking dazed, and quickly rushed out of her cell and back into the Compound. Atomic watched her go with a smile on her face.

These daily sessions had just gotten far more enjoyable.


	27. Boze

"So you believe that Ericka Bozeman is using Mari Takahashi as a soldier?"  
  
"We have evidence that suggests that she's performing tasks for Bozeman, yes," Agent Bereta replied. "Footage from the jail she broke into along with an unnamed accomplice places her on the scene, and we believe that she helped with the disappearance of Anthony Padilla."  
  
"What happened to Anthony Padilla?" the news reporter asked. He was an attractive young man, with carefully combed black hair and a sharp jawline.

The interview was taking place in the news station, with the desk and greenscreen and teleprompters. Both of the men were wearing pristine black suits, which was a stark contrast to the white wall behind them.

Agent Bereta sighed. "He did something to make Bozeman mad. They have an entire world, people like her, with their own politics and rules. That was uncovered over a year ago. He did something to offset the balance of power, and she killed him for it."

"Padilla's been off the radar ever since the prison break. How do you know that he disappeared?" 

"We had some men in his organization," Bereta explained. "We had a long-term plan to try and take him down from the inside, but Bozeman took care of him for us."  
  
"Why do you think that Takahashi had anything to do with his disappearance?"  
  
"The bodies we found at his estate had arrows in them, a weapon she showed she had a preference for when we arrested her. There is no reason that Bozeman or anyone in her organization would use a bow as a weapon besides her; it isn't effective enough as a weapon to be preferable."

"What do you know so far about her organization?"  
  
"I cannot disclose that. We cannot risk her knowing how much we know about her. It would make her start-"

Boze turned off the bar T.V with a sigh. So much had happened in the past few weeks that she'd completely forgotten about Agent Bereta and the plan she and Pamick had concocted to get rid of him. It seemed like that idea might have to be revisited. If he knew anything about her girls, then she was already swimming in dangerous waters.

Breaking out of a prison here was easy; she knew enough people inside the system to get her chains taken off as soon as they were put on. The only reason she stayed in prison for as long as she had was because she wanted to manipulate Wes. That had been the reason she'd used to justify 'helping' him with Mari. In reality, he hadn't uncovered a ring of corrupt cops that everyone else used to escape. He just thought he did. She'd been well aware of those corrupt cops for a long time; they worked for her, after all. They'd only been waiting for her signal to show themselves to him, giving him a false sense of accomplishment to stop him from seeing how suspicious the situation he found himself in really was.

But if she got busted by the FBI? That was an entirely different story. They'd ship her off to some maximum security prison in the middle of nowhere. There'd be no one to help her there. Breaking out, while she was sure she could do it, would be a bitch.

She needed to get rid of Bereta. Fast. Along with his entire team and everything he had on her. She'd get rid of the entire FBI agency if she needed to. He had no idea what he was dealing with here. Doing T.V interviews, provoking the most dangerous woman in America? What a fool.

Boze rested her head on the counter of the bar, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the tape recorder. She didn't care about the women surrounding her seeing her like this; they knew better than to say anything about it.

She brought the recorder to her ear and pressed play, letting the tape roll, replaying exactly what had happened in that room between Atomic and Courtney.

_"It was Wes, Ma-Atomic. he electrocuted you. He gave you those scars."_

_"No. No, he didn't."_

_"Then why is he in this photo, Atomic?"_

_"So, how are you and Olivia?"_

Just hearing it filled her with rage. Her plan was failing. Courtney had presented her with real, hard evidence that Wes had been the one who'd electrocuted her, the one who had given her those scars and tortured her, and yet Atomic had found a way to dismiss it. Boze would've been impressed with how much willpower it took to do that if she wasn't so  _angry_  about it.

Atomic really had loved him. And she was convinced that he had loved her too. She was so deluded and confident of her fantasy that Boze wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to shake her out of it at this point. Courtney was all that she had left. And Courtney was failing.

 _Boze_  was failing.

That was what angered her the most. She was failing. All of this work, all of this effort, and Atomic was still the same as she was when they started, just with some more memories that were proving to be useless. No matter what she did, Atomic avoided her. Whatever game they were playing, she was losing

She'd never felt failure before in her life. Ever since she was young, she'd seen life as a game, one you could win if you were smart. She'd spend hours practicing her emotions; empathy, sadness, friendship, until she could cry on command. When she wasn' working on her schoolwork, she was forming plans for her social life. Which people to talk to, which ones to befriend, which ones to treat like shit, all to keep her in the good graces of the popular kids. She'd had a little notebook with everyone in her grade ranked by number depending on how popular they were, and she'd rearrange it every time two friends had a falling out or someone embarrassed themselves in class. All of that effort, just to make herself seem normal.

Because that's what you do when you're a psychopath. You pretend and pretend and pretend, evaluating everyone you meet so you can know how to react to their problems without making them suspicious, going on dates and out to clubs just to make yourself seem normal. It's troublesome and tiring, but it's what you have to do. Boze knew that better than anyone. And she'd never failed. Not with a friend, or a patient, or an enemy. It was what she did best.

And yet here she was, failing. She had been from the start. Something was just... different about Atomic. The way she felt about her was new and confusing. It wasn't love, she couldn't love, but it wasn't anything Boze had ever experienced before. And that had thrown a huge wrench in her planning, because she'd been  _terrified_  of hurting her.

So here she was, downing her fourth beer, listening to the same tape over and over again, feeling more helpless every time she hit play, her failure haunting her.

From what she could see, Mari was gone. Not dead, but trapped. And Boze didn't know how to get her back out. She didn't think that she ever would.

"Hey."  
  
Mayhem had sat down on the barstool next to her, her hair combed over her shoulder in the style that she knew Boze liked. She'd been mad at her for a while about the whole Eugene thing, but now that she'd actually talked to her brother, she'd seemed to forgive her. Deep down, Boze was pretty sure that she'd wanted to talk to Eugene the entire time.

"What do you want, Mayhem?" Boze asked, sitting back up. 

"To talk," Mayhem said with a wink as Chaos, who was on bar duty, passed her a bottle of beer.

Boze knew what she was getting at. Mayhem always wanted the same thing. But Boze wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

"I'm a little busy, Mayhem," Boze sighed.

Mayhem downed her beer and leaned forwards. "Whatever it is that you're worried about, I can help you forget it for a while."  
  
There was a seductive smile on her lips now. Boze stared at her for a few seconds, contemplating her offer. A distraction sounded amazing right now. If she kept going like this, she might drink herself to death.

"Is that right now?" Boze asked huskily.

Mayhem nodded and extended her hand. Boze took it, and the taller woman led her out of the bar and up towards Boze's room, both of them ignoring all the looks they were getting from the other girls. They all knew what would happen the second Mayhem sat down.

The black-haired woman opened Boze's door and pulled Boze in before pushing her against it to close it, smashing their lips together. Boze wrapped her arms around Mayhem's neck, pulling her closer to her, deepening the kiss. Mayhem rested her hands on Boze's waist.

There was no love in their kiss. Only lust. Mayhem reached her hands under Boze's shirt and pulled up, removing the clothing article and flinging it onto the floor. Boze did the same to her, and then pulled her back, feeling the warmness of her skin against her's.

Their pants went next, strewn somewhere on the floor. Then Mayhem reached for Boze's bra clamp.

That made it real. And then Boze found herself wanting to stop. She didn't want to have sex right now. Not really. It might make the situation feel better now, but it would just make her feel even worse later on. Something just felt... wrong.

"Mayhem," she pulled away from the other woman's lips. "Mayhem, stop."

Mayhem pulled away instantly, taking a step back. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I- I can't do this right now," Boze replied, picking her shirt off of the ground. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Why?" Mayhem asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"I just can't, okay?" Boze said angrily. She didn't need to explain herself. She'd said no. That should be the end of it.

Mayhem put her hands on her hips. "It's Atomic, isn't it?"

Boze opened her mouth to say _no,_  but found that she couldn't. Because it was Atomic. Really, it was. Boze didn't know exactly how she felt about her, because she never knew what was up when it came to feelings, but sleeping with Mayhem didn't feel right. Not now.

"Why do you care so much?" Mayhem shouted. "That's all you ever think about nowadays. Atomic this and Atomic that. There are hundreds of other girls in this Compound, you know. What about us?"

"Mayhem-" Boze started.

"You know what? Forget it," Mayhem cut her off angrily, reaching for the door. "I hope you have fun masturbating to the thought of her. I'm gone."

Boze didn't try and stop her. She sidestepped, letting Mayhem open the door and storm out, slamming it behind her.

She stood in place for a long time, staring at the door in silence, thinking about what Mayhem had said.

Was that how all of the girls felt? Like she was neglecting them? If so, that was bad. Maybe she'd let this whole Atomic obsession gone on for too long. It didn't look like she'd ever be able to bring Mari back anyway. And if she had to pick between Mari and her girls, she'd always pick her girls, no matter how she felt about Mari. Her girls were everything to her. She couldn't lose them.

Tomorrow. That was all she'd give herself. If she couldn't get Mari back by tomorrow, then... then she'd have to have Atomic executed for trying to kill her. She wouldn't enjoy doing it, but if it was for the good of her girls, then she had no choice.

One more day, and then she was done. No matter how much she wanted to bring Mari back, no matter how much she missed her, no matter how much she wanted to devote her every living second to bringing her back. It was her only choice.

One day. She could only hope that she would make it count.


	28. Atomic

Rebel brought her lunch, which was tomato soup. 

Meals were Atomic's least favourite part of the day. It was embarrassing. Rebel never untied her hands, so she had to get fed her food as if she were a two-year-old. Liquids were better, as Rebel could just tip the bowl to her lips and let her drink it, but stuff like spaghetti? The worst. Especially when you considered the fact that she had an audience of gossiping girls right outside her window.

The only upside was the fact that she got to take her gag off during it. She'd gotten used to the constant soreness in her muscles, but the aching in her jaws never let her forget it. And that wasn't even mentioning the drool. God, she hated that thing.

It wasn't like the experience was pleasurable for Rebel, either. The redhead always looked completely uncomfortable while doing it, and Atomic didn't blame her. It was awkward for both of them. To this day, Atomic wondered what Rebel did to piss Vixen off enough to be put on this duty, if she'd even done anything at all. Maybe Vixen just liked tormenting her.

It only took a few minutes, thankfully, seeing as it was soup, and then the gag was back in her mouth. Rebel couldn't get out of there fast enough, and practically ran out the door. Atomic watched her go before focusing on the peeling paint on the wall like she always did.

After spending over a week here, she'd practically memorized every detail of the room. The walls were purple, the ceiling and floor white. The bars making up her cell were made of steel, from the looks of it. When she got out of here, one of the main things she wanted to do was touch them, just to make sure. Shelves still hung from the walls, and you could almost see the toys that once rested on them if you let yourself picture it. Their emptiness was probably the most depressing thing in the room.

Usually, Atomic would dread her daily sessions, but that had changed yesterday. She couldn't wait to talk to Courtney again. Courtney was strong, sure, but she wasn't Vixen; she actually cared about her. Atomic knew that Vixen wanted Mari back, but the reason she did was probably twisted and demented. The only reason Courtney wanted her back was because Courtney had loved her. Platonically, of course. That girl only had eyes for one person, and that was her fiancèe.

But that love was a weakness, one that Atomic completely intended to exploit. She'd already seen the way she completely disarmed Courtney yesterday by not accepting her "evidence" as fact. And the only thing she'd had to do was bring up Olivia. If that was all it took, then she had a lot more up her sleeve. Talking to Courtney was going to be  _fun._

So there she sat, in her uncomfortable chair, waiting. Courtney would be arriving any minute now. Atomic wanted to know about work. What new patients were there? How easy were they to deal with? Had any of them attacked-

The door flung open. Atomic sat up, excited. Finally!  
  
Her smile dropped as soon as she saw who the newcomer was.

It was Vixen. She wasn't wearing a lab coat anymore; instead, she was wearing the ordinary uniform for her girls, complete with the sunglasses, which looked ridiculous, seeing as she was inside. The only difference were her shoes; she'd switched out the usual black pumps for sneakers. There was no book in her hand, and seeing as there was no lump in any of her pockets, it seemed that she'd left the tape recorder behind too.

She entered the cell and locked it behind her. She made a waving motion with her hand at all the girls outside the window, and they fled as if someone had thrown a smoke bomb at them, leaving the two girls alone.

Vixen looked tired. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and Atomic assumed that underneath those sunglasses there were empty bags under her eyes.   
  
Something was off about this. Where was Courtney? What was with the sudden change in outfit? This was unlike Vixen. It was almost as if she was showing... weakness. Vulnerability. The change made Atomic's skin crawl. This wasn't the Vixen she knew, the strong girl who could take down someone twice her size. The girl in front of her was someone else entirely.

Once all the girls were gone, Vixen walked over to Atomic and reached her hands behind her head, removing the gag, before sitting down in the empty seat. Atomic stared at her blankly. Yet another move that wasn't a part of their normal routine. What was going on?  
  
"Atomic," Vixen sighed, leaning back in her chair.

"What's happening?" Atomic asked instantly. Her normal course of action with Vixen, blocking herself off from everything she said, somehow didn't seem applicable. The girl sitting in front of her was so different from Vixen that she could barely even recognize her.

"I'm here to talk to you," Vixen replied, folding her hands and placing them on the table.

"Where's the tape recorder, then?" Atomic asked. "And the book?"  
  
"In my room," Vixen responded.  
  
Atomic looked at her incredulously. "What? Why?"  
  
"There's no use me using them," Vixen replied with a shake of her head. "We both know that. You would just block yourself off to me. I might as well be talking to a tree then."  
  
She laughed softly. "You're smarter than I gave you credit for, you know. And stronger. I thought that this would be easy, but it wasn't. Nothing's easy when it comes to you."  
  
Atomic's mouth gaped. What the Hell did she mean by that? What was going on? 

"Where's Courtney?" Atomic asked. She didn't want to deal with this. It was too alien, too unfamiliar. She'd been prepared for Courtney, and at the moment, she wanted nothing more than to talk to her.  
  
"She's gone," Vixen sighed. "I let her and Dr. Sui go. We both know that she wasn't going to get anywhere with you either. There was no point in keeping her here."  
  
"You kidnapped her?" Atomic's mouth felt dry.  
  
Vixen closed her eyes. "I kidnapped Dr. Sui. Courtney would've done anything for her. We both know that. There was no point in kidnapping Courtney if I could take her instead."  
  
While that move in itself wasn't too difficult to come up with, Atomic wondered just how intelligent Vixen was. She'd managed to kill Silver and keep her in the dark about it for a month, for starters. Eugene and Lasercorn probably had something to do with her too. How much effort had Vixen put into her?

"Is she still there, Atomic?" Vixen sighed. "Is there any part of her left?"  
  
She didn't need to explain who she was talking about. "I- I don't know."

Vixen nodded with a sad smile. "I guess you wouldn't know, would you? You and Mari share the same memories. Well, at least the ones you have. To you, she must be the exact same person as you are, isn't she?"  
  
"I don't spend much time thinking about her," Atomic replied truthfully. She didn't, really, unless you counted thinking about her lost memories as thinking about Mari.

"Of course you don't," Vixen shook her head. "He never gave you a reason to, did he? Your precious little Silver. Your angel."  
  
Atomic didn't know how to respond. Where was she going with this?  
  
"I truly wasn't expecting that," Vixen sighed. "You loving him. Actually loving him. I thought that that illusion would be easy to break after recapturing you. After all, he had no idea what he was doing with that machine. God knows how he managed to do such a great job with you."  
  
"What machine?" Atomic asked.

Vixen smiled without any happiness. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. The only way you'd believe the truth is if he told you himself."  
  
"Well, he can't," Atomic hissed. "Because of  _you._ "  
  
"Because of me," Vixen agreed. "This is all because of me. I made you this way, no matter what he thought he did. You're my creation. And there's nothing I regret more."  
  
She sighed. "Do you remember me, Atomic? Before you knew who I really was? Before you knew who wore the mask of Vixen?"  
  
"No," Atomic replied.

"Typical," Vixen took a deep breath. "If you did, you never would've trusted me. As you said yourself in my room; you don't remember an instant of the escape. Though I suppose you wouldn't remember me even if you did."

"You said you were my coworker," Atomic remembered.

"I was," Vixen sighed. "Dr. Bozeman, licensed psychologist. One of the best in the institute, after you. I could have been better, but then I would've revealed myself. As I'm sure you know, spending all that time with the most deranged members of society would fuck anyone up. You can imagine how much of an advantage you'd have if you were fucked up from day one."

"We were friends, you said," Atomic replied.

"We were," Vixen smiled. "Not as much as you and Ian, or Courtney for that matter, but we were more than coworkers. I tried to ignore you for the most part. You were... confusing. Radiant. Strong. I don't know if I was intimidated or... who knows, but being around you always made me feel a little off my game, even if I never admitted it to myself. Still, I'd talk to you, go out with you and Courtney sometimes. Well, not you. Mari."

"Did you love me?" Atomic asked.

Vixen scoffed. "I can't love, Atomic. You were a psychologist. You know that. I can only feel some twisted, fucked up version of it, tantalizingly close to the real thing and yet far from it. It was one of the things I always envied about you and Courtney; that ability to let yourself be vulnerable, to feel those beautiful emotions that love brought with it. Silver tried to imitate it, with you, but it was a fool's mission. We can't love. It is one of our greatest strengths, and yet our worst curse."

"Then why do you care so much, Vixen?" Atomic asked. "Why do you care so much about Mari?"  
  
"I don't know," Vixen replied. "I have no idea, and it's driving me insane. This want that fills me, but for what, I don't know."

She shook her head. "You should hate me, Atomic."

"I do," Atomic replied. At least, she thought she did. She wasn't sure what she felt now. The way Vixen was speaking to her now... they weren't the words of the girl she hated. 

"Not for Silver," Vixen smiled. "For yourself. I was your friend, Atomic. And I betrayed you."  
  
"You did betray me," Atomic responded. Something was tugging in her brain, and she could hear the soft, muffled whisper of the voice that hadn't spoken to her for a week.

"Not because of Silver!" Vixen screamed, shooting to her feet. "I betrayed you, Mari! You were terrified. Your best friend had just been murdered right in front of you. You were hiding in the darkness of the pharmacy, and as your last hope, you texted me, hoping I would save you. I could've. But I didn't. Because I was helping Silver. I was helping him from day one. I was the one who had Ian assign you to him. I'm the reason he was ever in your life in the first place. You would still be perfectly fine if it wasn't for me, Mari! You'd still be you! That's why you should hate me. I took  _everything_  from you!"

She slammed her fist on the table, breathing heavily. Atomic looked at her in bewilderment. What she had just said to her... that hadn't happened. Silver had been the best thing to ever happen to her. She'd never tried to escape him. Right?  
  
Vixen stood up straight and made her way to the door, wiping her eyes as she went. Atomic watched as she put her hand on the door handle, ready to leave.

And then it clicked.

Her memories came rushing back, all at once, like a flood. Every single one, every gap filled, every trace of Atomic washed out in the flurry of experiences and knowledge. Yet, somehow, in the tsunami that raged in her head, she managed to scream something her subconscious had wanted to scream for a long time. "Fuck you, Ericka!"  
  
Vixen--no, not Vixen, Ericka-- froze. She spun instantly, turning to face the woman strapped to her chair, her eyes wide, like she couldn't believe what she was looking at.

"Mari?"


	29. Mari

_My name is Mariko Takahashi. I am thirty years old. My parent's names are Teruo and Ayako. I was a psychologist. I do ballet. My best friend was Ian Hecox. I was kidnapped, tortured, and raped by Wesley Alan Johnson._

Mari felt like she couldn't move, even if you didn't factor in her restraints. The wind had been knocked completely out of her. She struggled to breathe, to keep her head above the tides caused by her memories, to keep herself sane. Her eyes were wider than they ever had been before. Her body felt alien and unfamiliar, as if it belonged to someone else.

She remembered everything now. Every fact about her life, everything that Wesley had done to her. The illusion was broken; she saw him for what he was now. What he'd always been. A monster, the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Every little thing he'd done to her flashed through her mind.

Their therapy sessions. Watching him shoot Ian. Injecting her with anesthesia, knocking her out. The scold's bridle, and the insufferable music he'd tried to plague her with. Fooling him, making him think that he'd brainwashed her. The party. Night Rider getting shot. Him taking her home, and her calling the cops. Making a deal with him before he went to jail. Getting the call informing her of his escape. Him shooting Isaac and her knee, kidnapping her again. Escaping. Meeting Eugene. Falling in love with him. Wes using him as ransom. Joven getting shot. Wes' family. Letting herself fall into his lifestyle, and by extension, him.

Most importantly, she remembered the electroshock therapy. The way he'd taken advantage of her feelings for Eugene to bring her back into his clutches, and strapped her down to that bench before frying her brain, and turning her into... whatever Atomic was, if she was even anything at all.

Mari felt like she wanted to scream, but she couldn't find the willpower to do so. She felt like she was choking. It was too much; all the memories, all the pain, hitting her all at once. It was drowning her and filling her lungs with air at the same time, and she couldn't process it. Her brain was overloaded, working too fast to try and figure out what the _fuck_  was happening to it. Mari could barely even think.

Ericka was staring at her with wide eyes, frozen in place. Mari couldn't move her eyes to look at her. She was paralyzed, staring at the wall, her mouth hanging open. 

Her entire body started shaking, quivering against its bonds, and then she finally found the power to scream. And she did; loud and powerful, sharing her pain with anyone who had the misfortune of being around her to hear her. By this point, a thick layer of sweat covered her skin.

Ericka rushed forwards, wrapping her up in a tight hug despite the fact that Mari could probably burst her eardrums from how loud she was screaming. Mari barely felt it. She was too wrapped up in her own mind to be focused on anything to do with her body.

Atomic had been too strong. Wes hadn't completely erased Mari. He'd only subjugated her, taking the most important thing she possessed from her; her mind, replacing her with the entity that called herself Atomic.

Mari hadn't been conscious during the time Atomic had spent in her head. She'd been there, but pushed back, unaware of everything that was going on. It was only when Atomic weakened, doubted her memory of her relationship with Wes, that she managed to fight her way into her mind and talk to her. That little voice had been her. She remembered that, screaming at herself to remember who she was. Most of the time, Atomic had ignored her.

But she remembered being Atomic, too. She remembered the way she felt, the way she thought, everything that had happened to her. Atomic was gone now; she could feel that; but what she'd left behind still remained. And that terrified Mari the most. The fact that she had been like that, that anyone had the ability to turn her into that  _thing,_  was horrifying. It chilled her to her very bones.

She'd severely underestimated Wes. That was clear. The true depravity of his mind had only made itself visible to her when she'd been strapped to that table, and by then, it was too late. The name of her book was wrong. Wes hadn't been a sociopath; he'd been something far worse. If the devil existed, he probably had some things in common with her tormentor.

Despite the fact that he was dead, Mari could feel his presence. After everything he'd done to her, to her body and mind, she'd never be able to forget him. He was a part of her now. No matter how much she hated that fact, he was, and she'd never be able to change that.

"Mari!" Ericka exclaimed, squeezing her tighter. At some point, Mari had stopped screaming, though she didn't know when. "It's you. It's really you!"  
  
"It's me," Mari replied quietly. She didn't feel like herself, truly. But she wasn't Atomic either. She didn't know what she was.

"I can't believe it's you," Ericka took a step back and grabbed her shoulders. "I thought I'd lost you forever!"

"I did too," Mari responded truthfully.

Ericka laughed. Her sunglasses had fallen off her face, and were lying shattered on the floor. There were dark bags under the other woman's eyes, but the bright smile that was painted on her lips almost made her look fully rested.

For the first time in her life, Mari saw Ericka as she truly was. Not as her former friend, nor as an elite, powerful gang leader. Finally, she could look at her through clear eyes, and she saw a psychopath. A smart one, a powerful one, a beautiful one, and a strong one, but a psychopath nonetheless. 

"You're back," there was an aura of disbelief to her words. After all this time, all this effort put into bringing her back, Mari doubted that Ericka had fully grasped that she'd finally accomplished her goal. Mari had seen the way she was about to leave. Up until about three minutes ago, Ericka thought that she'd failed.

"Yeah," Mari replied. "I guess I am."

Ericka laughed again, before bringing her hand to Mari's temple, as if she expected her to have the flu. She'd probably put all of her time into planning how to bring Mari back, and none of it on what she'd do once she actually succeded. She certainly looked like she had no idea what she was doing, which was unusual for her. Then again, everything she'd done today had been unusual for her.

She brought her hand down and grabbed the leather straps binding Mari's wrists, quickly unfastening them. Once she was done with the left, she moved to the right, and then down to Mari's ankles. Despite the fact that they were gone, Mari could still feel pressure on her skin, as if Ericka hadn't moved a muscle.

Ericka stood up, expecting Mari to do the same most likely, but Mari couldn't. If she stood up, she'd probably fall over. It took enough energy for her to move her arms and massage her wrists.

There was a long silence between the two of them. Mari started stretching, going slowly with her aching muscles. She'd done ballet enough to know that moving muscles that hadn't been stretched was a bad idea, and her muscles hadn't been stretched in over a week.

Once she could move her arms without any pain, she moved onto her legs, starting with her ankles. Ericka watched from a distance. A few minutes later, Mari felt enough confidence to stand up, and slowly got to her feet, careful not to move her back to much. She used the table as a support.

Very carefully, she straightened out her back. Then she started walking, in short circles around the table to make sure she wouldn't fall. By that point, Ericka seemed to have figured out what she was doing.

Then she dropped to the floor and started doing pushups. She'd been in that chair far too long for anyone, let alone someone as active as her. To her, that might as well be torture; something she was all too familiar with.

Ericka coughed in impatience, bring Mari's attention back to her. She got to her feet, ignoring every instinct that told her to go on a longer run than Forrest Gump.

"You good?" Ericka asked.

Mari nodded. "Good as I'll ever be."  
  
"Sorry for keeping in your chair for that long," Ericka replied. "I didn't have any other choice."  
  
"I know," Mari responded.

There was another moment of silence. Things were awkward between them now, even more so than normal. In both of the periods of her life when she'd known her, either as a psychologist or Wes' plaything, she'd had an idea of what the shorter woman thought of her. They may have been the wrong idea, but at least they were there. Now... now she had no idea what Ericka thought of her.

More than anything, Mari wanted to see her parents. She'd gone to visit them after she'd escaped Wes the first time, but she hadn't gone back since. They must be worried sick. The last time they'd heard of her was when she'd been arrested and broken out. They had no idea where she was or whether or not she was okay. For all they knew, she was dead.

They weren't the only people she wanted to see, either. She wanted to talk to Courtney, to let her know that she was cured. She wanted to visit Ian's grave. Eugene was somewhere in this Compound; there were a few things she wanted to say to him too.

Most importantly, she wanted to leave. She wanted to go as far away from the Compound as she could and never return. She wanted her  _life_ back.

"Let me go," she demanded.

Ericka looked taken aback by her words. "What?"  
  
"Let. Me. Go," Mari repeated, trying to sound as stern as she could. "I don't want to be here anymore. Let me leave!"  
  
"Mari," Ericka breathed. "Do you seriously think that I'd let you do that?"

"You care about me, don't you?" Mari asked, taking a shot in the dark desperately.

"Who said that?" Ericka smiled. It seemed that Mari had missed her target completely. "You're not going anywhere, Mari. I've worked too hard on you to just let you  _leave._ "  
  
"Ericka!" Mari took a deep breath. "Please. Please let me leave."  
  
"No, Mari," Ericka sighed. "We both know that's not going to happen."  
  
Mari lunged for the door, forgetting that Ericka had locked it on her way in. Sure enough, the door didn't budge, no matter how hard she pulled.

Ericka grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back to the chair, slamming her wrist back down on the armrest and tightening the leather strap around it. As Mari struggled to release herself, Ericka rushed to the door and unlocked it. By the time Mari was on her feet, Ericka was already standing on the other side of the bars, the keyring back in her pocket.

"Rebel will bring you your dinner later," Ericka stated, crossing her arms. "I'll come back tomorrow."

"Ericka!" Mari screamed as the shorter woman made her way to the door. "Ericka! Come back this instant!"  
  
She ran to the cell door and pulled on it, already knowing what the result of her actions would be. Desperate, she threw her body weight against the bars, but she didn't weigh nearly enough to make them budge.

Defeated, she sank to the ground, grabbing her temple with her hands as she felt the coldness of the plastic tiles through the rips in her jeans. She'd escaped the prison that was her mind, but she wasn't free. Not by a longshot.

Mari doubted that she ever would be again.


	30. Boze

Mari was back.

Boze still hadn't wrapped her mind around that fact. The thought seemed out of place in her brain. After all this time, all this effort to get her back, actually having her seemed... off.

Maybe it was the fact that she'd given up that was really throwing her off. She'd walked into that room defeated, to say goodbye, fully intending on having to kill Atomic afterwards, no matter how much it would've hurt her to do so. It had taken her a good ten minutes to gather the strength to even go inside.

But it had worked. Finally, it had worked. Mari was back. And she wanted to leave.

That thought made Boze feel... strangely hurt. She should've expected it, really. Of course Mari would want to leave. The only thing that had been keeping her here was a desire to avenge Silver, and that had been Atomic's goal. Atomic was dead, and Mari hated her. It shouldn't have been as much of a shock to Boze as it was.

Yet it was. Boze had been half expecting her to be grateful to her for freeing her from Atomic, but she'd been wrong. Mainly, though, she'd been expecting Mari to miss Boze as much as Boze had missed her. Which was also stupid.

Now that Boze thought about it, she hadn't put any thought into what she'd actually  _do_  once she got Mari back. All those nights hunched over her laptop, thinking up ways to try and shock Mari from Atomic's subconscious and back into the controls, she'd only ever put any brainpower in how she'd do it, not what she'd do with the end result. Boze had just walked into unmapped territory. A dangerous one.

Mari was a wildcard. She wasn't as predictable as Atomic was. She could lie and act and scheme against her. All signs were pointing towards her wanting to escape, and Boze was sure that she'd try. She'd have to be careful around her.

Back when she'd first gotten Atomic, which felt like ages ago, she'd promised Pamick that she wasn't Wes. That she wouldn't make his mistakes. Trusting Mari was his biggest one; she wasn't about to follow in his footsteps.

Despite the fact that Mari was all she could think about, she tried to push her to the back of her mind. She had a meeting to get to. One she couldn't afford to mess up.

Quickly, she rushed into her office and got changed into a standard girls' uniform. She'd agreed on no weapons, but everyone in her world was a filthy liar, including her, so she shoved a knife into her boot, careful to make sure that she didn't cut herself, and headed out the door.

Chaos was waiting for her. Together, the two women headed down to the main floor, where Wrath and Psycho were waiting. Boze trusted Poison and Antidote, at least more than she trusted anyone else, but she wasn't about to go anywhere without some form of backup; especially when all she had to defend herself with was a knife.

The four of them made their way into the parking lot. Boze had let Chaos pick any car she wanted from her wide selection, and she'd picked a sleek silver Lamborghini that one of her girls had brought with her when she joined the gang. The licence plate had been torn off, replaced with a fake, untraceable one.

As they got in, Chaos ran her fingers along the hood of the car, smiling like a mother smiles at her child. Every woman in transportation had their favourite vehicle, one they specialized in and preferred, and there was nothing Chaos loved more than cars. She'd once built a fully-functioning car out of scrap metal.

Luckily, the windows were tinted, so no one would recognize any of them. While all three of the other women had been erased from every database, and Boze's Techs were working hard to make sure that no other data uploaded about them was ever stored, Boze had an easily recognizable face. Mari's case was sensationalized, and Boze was a main character. She was almost like a celebrity, except her paparazzi had guns and handcuffs.

Once everyone was in and had their seatbelts clicked in (they weren't completely lawless), Chaos slammed her foot on the gas pedal, and they tore out of the parking lot and onto the streets of Irvine.

They sped down the road at an inhuman speed. Chaos had a massive grin on her face as she drove. On their way to their destination, she almost hit three pedestrians, barely swerving away in time. Chaos was usually a better driver than this.

Soon, they arrived at their destination. Poison and Antidote had picked an abandoned military bunker as their base, a few miles away from Irvine. It was a big building, with cracked walls and boarded-up windows. It looked like even more of a mess than Boze's mall did from the outside. They could only hope that Poison and Antidote had some home decorators on their team.

As soon as they stopped, the doors to the bunker flung open, and eight men filed out, each holding a massive machine gun in their hands. Before Boze could blink, they had surrounded the car.

"Come out of the vehicle!" one of the men demanded, shaking his gun a little to show he meant business.

Boze sighed and kicked open the door. The rest of her girls followed suite. When she was out, she threw her hands in the air and shot the man who had spoken a tilted smile.

"Is this how Poison and Antidote treat their friends?" she asked tauntingly.

"You're Vixen?" the man responded, pointing his gun at her.

"Tom, lower the fucking gun," Wrath spoke up from behind her. "I know you recognize me."

The man glanced over at her. A slight smile formed on his lips as he nodded at his men, who all lowered their guns.

"Ah, my apologies, Vixen," he stated. "Poison and Antidote are waiting for you. Please follow me."

He turned and started to walk away, all of his men rushing to follow him. Vixen turned to Wrath.

"How do you know him?" she asked.

Wrath blushed. "I went on a few dates with him."  
  
"You WHAT?" Psycho asked.

"We really hit it off after our mission," Wrath replied. "He's quite funny."  
  
"Out of all the guys in that truck, you picked him?" Psycho asked incredulously.

"He was the leader, Psych," Wrath replied. "Had more of a chance to talk to him. And you're trying to talk to me about taste? I've seen some of the women-"

"Girls," Boze raised her hand. "We're here for a reason."

Psycho and Wrath grumbled but didn't reply, and the four of them rushed to follow Tom and the other men. They made it inside the building just before the doors closed behind them, locking instantly.

You could tell that Poison and Antidote hadn't been here for long. The inside of the building hadn't been repaired at all, and boxes covered the floor, which men were moving into rooms. At least they had some sort of order. Boze didn't know exactly how their organization worked, but she assumed that it was similar to her's. Each man seemed to have his own role. 

Or woman. There weren't that many, but as they walked to Poison and Antidote's office, Boze spotted a few. They were dressed just like the men, and looked at Boze and her girls curiously as they passed.

So Poison and Antidote had snatched some women that had fallen under her radar. Interesting. It seemed that she had competition in the convincing-women-with-an-affinity-for-crime-to-join-you business.

Eventually, they arrived at what she could only assume was Poison and Antidote's office. Tom knocked on the door, and Poison answered.

"She's here," Tom announced.

Poison nodded. "Let her in."

Boze left her girls outside and entered their office. It was what used to be a sleeping quarter, with all the bunk beds removed. They had three chairs set up, two facing one, in the right corner of the room. A table with a computer on it rested against the far wall, with a king bed beside it. The paint was peeling off the walls, and the windows had boards covering them, making the dim ceiling lights their only light source.

Antidote was already sitting in one of the chairs. Boze sat in the singular chair against the wall. Seeming to have picked up on her tastes, Poison grabbed a bottle of wine off the floor and handed it to her.

"We ran out of clean glasses," he apologized.

Boze shrugged and popped off the cork before taking a swing. She wasn't one to turn down wine, no matter what the circumstances were.

Lasercorn was right. She _was_  going to drink herself to death someday. And she wouldn't regret a single second of it.

"So, you two wanted to talk?" she asked as she crossed her legs.

Antidote nodded. "We did."  
  
"Well then," she smiled. "Let's talk."

"We have another mission for you," Poison explained. "If you're interested, that is."  
  
"Depends on what it is," Boze replied, "and what I'll get out of it."

"We need the mayor of L.A dead," Antidote stated. "And we think you'd be the best person for the job."

Boze's eyes widened. "Why do you want him dead? Planning on running in this year's election?"

Poison scoffed. "Of course not. He's just proving to be an obstacle. Wants to crack down on crime; especially us. He proves a threat to our entire community. And seeing as he's on the lookout for us and our group, we can't be the ones to do it."  
  
"So what would I get out of doing this for you?" Boze asked. "Killing a mayor isn't an easy task."  
  
"We're well aware," Poison replied. "So, in payment, if you get rid of the mayor for us, we'll take care of your little... Bereta problem."

Agent Bereta. She still had to get rid of him. If they could do it for her... well, it certainly wouldn't hurt. Besides, killing the mayor wouldn't be the biggest challenge she's ever faced.

"May I ask why the mayor is so fixated on you two?" she asked.

"He's my brother," Antidote explained. "Has hated me since we were two."  
  
"Ah," she smiled. "We have a deal. I'll kill the mayor."

"And we'll kill Agent Bereta," Poison agreed. She shook both of their hands. "Pleasure doing business with you, Vixen."

She nodded. Antidote opened the door for her, and she walked out. Her girls were waiting for her. Well, Chaos and Psycho were waiting for her, leaning against a wall. Wrath was caught up in a conversation with Tom, a wide smile on her face. Boze had to physically yank her away.

Some men had been guarding their Lamborghini outside, and dispersed the second they walked through the doors. They all got into the same seats they arrived in, and seconds later, they were off. Chaos seemed a lot calmer now, and her driving was far more controlled.

They arrived at the Compound just as the sun started to set. Boze made a beeline for her room. As she walked, she allowed herself a quick glance at Mari, who was sitting in the chair in her cell. They made eye contact for a few seconds, and Boze quickly looked away. 

She made it to her office and jumped onto her bed, staring up at her ceiling as she thought. Mari was back. What was she going to do now?

There was no way she was going to let her go. She'd devoted far to much time to her to watch her leave. But she didn't want to keep her in that cell forever. She wanted Mari, the real Mari, as one of her girls. How she was going to accomplish that, however, she didn't know.

 _You have all the time in the world to figure that out, Boze,_ she told herself, closing her eyes.  _Let's focus on the task at hand. You have a mayor to kill, after all._

With that thought in mind, she let herself get distracted from her overwhelming thoughts about the woman she had confined downstairs.


	31. Mari

The spider crawled along the floor in front of her.

Mari watched it go, its orange and black legs moving it across the ground. It looked like it was covered in hair, and there was a white symbol that looked like a cross on its abdomen.

She used to be scared of spiders. Whenever she'd found one in her house, she'd make whoever lived with her, be it her parents, roommates, or Peter, kill it. They had terrified her. Her nightmares had been full of them, their spindly legs crawling all over her skin.

But she'd faced far more vicious creatures now, ones that made spiders look like dust. The sight of the spider didn't make her feel anything.

Slowly, she brought her hand from where it had been placed on her crossed legs and put it in front of the arachnid. It crawled onto her skin, tickling her slightly as it did.

Mari brought her hand in front of her face, examining the creature closer, making sure that it never crawled onto the rest of her arm with her other hand. Watching it move was the most excitement she'd had in hours.

Truth be told, she had no idea how long she'd been in here. Ericka had left what felt like days ago, but Rebel had only brought her three meals; dinner, breakfast, and lunch. The fact that it had been less than twenty-four hours seemed insane to her. 

It was the boredom, really. Atomic had had the ability to slip into her own mind and distract herself there, with thoughts of Silver and violence. Mari couldn't. She didn't miss much about being Atomic, but that; that was a gift she'd never get back. Not unless she shocked herself.

So the boredom sunk in, and she was stuck in here, the minutes ticking by like hours. Every once in a while, one of Ericka's girls would come and gawk at her through the glass, wanting to see if the rumour was true. There must be rumours; Rebel wasn't known for keeping her mouth shut, and she knew for a fact that Atomic was dead. The entire Compound must know by now.

Whenever a girl showed up, Mari would stare at them until they were unnerved enough to leave. Being gawked at was the last thing she needed right now.

The other thing she definitely didn't need was time to herself. Time to think. Thinking was dangerous to her, now. Because Mari was terrified of herself.

Wes had fucked her up more than he possibly could've known. Everything he'd put her through; the kidnappings, the murders, the constant fear for her life and safety, and, of course, the torture. The scars on the side of her head burned whenever she thought about it, as if she was still strapped to that table, an electric current flowing through her brain. All of it, combined, gave her more trauma than she could deal with.

She didn't know if she wanted to scream, cry, or punch something. Maybe all three. Maybe she just wanted to die.

He'd killed her. The Mari Takahashi who had accepted Wesley Johnson as a patient had been murdered a long time ago. Her blood was on his hands, along with that of all his victims.

After the first kidnapping and escape, when she'd gone back to ballet, she'd tried to put her past behind her. She'd written her book as a way to confront her trauma and forget about it. She'd gone to countless sessions with multiple different therapists, trying to resolve her nightmares about him. None of it worked. She was still trying to find a solution when she'd gotten the call from Agent Bereta.

Maybe, if she'd coped with her trauma better in the year that he was locked away, she wouldn't have been as vulnerable to him as she was. She still remembered how she felt on the roof of that car. That acceptance, that _surrender_ to him, her mind finding a way to fit him in to relieve the pain that he brought. If he hadn't brought her into the electroshock therapy room, she never would've tried to escape. She'd have let the fucked-up part of her brain take over the rest of it and try to live her life as his docile girlfriend.

But that hadn't been enough for him. He'd wanted more. He'd wanted perfection. And now he was dead, and she was here. They'd played their little game, and in the end, they'd both lost. 

"So it's true?"  
  
Mari's head shot up. Mayhem was standing in front of her cell, her arms crossed. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek black ponytail. There was a smirk on her lips.

"What do you want?" Mari asked as she let the spider back down on the floor. Mayhem wasn't exactly close to her; she couldn't remember saying a single word to her, for crying out loud. She would've expected any of her fellow brawlers to shop up before her.

"I just wanted to look for myself," Mayhem grinned. Mari had seen her once, in a picture in Eugene's house. It had been framed and sat above his unused fireplace, among a few other photos of his family. In that picture, Mayhem had her hair cut short, and was wearing a dress. She'd looked like a completely different person.

Had Ericka ruined her life, or had she done it on her own free volition?

Now that she thought about it, Mari didn't know how Ericka got any of her girls. She'd always just assumed that they were criminals, vulnerable young women that Ericka swooped up when they were at their worst. There must be some truth to that theory, but there could be more involved, and Mari would have no idea. The realization made her feel weak.

"Well, you've seen me," Mari replied tartly, lying down on the ground. "Now get a move on."  
  
"Mari Takahashi," Mayhem grinned. "You're back."

"No shit, Sherlock," Mari sighed. 

"So this is the girl Vixen's so _enamoured_ with," Mayhem snickered. "You must really be something."

Mari chuckled. "You must have the wrong person, darling. Ericka isn't enamoured with me."

"You have no idea," Mayhem shook her head. "Do you?"  
  
"Listen, I'm not looking to have a big intellectual debate about the bitch who put me here," Mari looked up. "Can you please just fuck off?"  
  
"Talking about Vixen like that is an easy way to get a bullet in your skull," Mayhem leaned forwards, wrapping her hands around the metal bars that made up Mari's cell. "I'd keep that pretty little mouth of yours closed if I were you."

"What do you really want, Mayhem?" Mari wasn't an idiot. If Mayhem had come here to gawk, she would've left a long time ago.

"What's so special about you, Dr.?" Mayhem asked. "You made a sociopath and a psychopath fall in love with you without even trying. How'd you do it?"  
  
"Fuck off," Mari groaned, bringing her hands to her eyes. She did not want to be having this conversation right now. But she was the one in the cage; she couldn't just walk away, no matter how much she wanted to.

"Well, I guess  _love_  isn't the right word," Mayhem smiled. " _Obsessed_  might fit the situation better."

"I wish I knew, hun, so I could stop doing it," Mari sat up. "You think I wanted Silver to be obsessed with me? If you truly think that, then you're even more delusional than he was."

"What does Vixen see in you?" Mayhem narrowed her eyes, digging her nails into the bars so hard that Mari heard one of them snap.

That's when it clicked. "Oh, I see. You're jealous!"  
  
"I'm not jealous," Mayhem spit out immediately.

"Don't lie to me dear, I'm a psychologist," Mari grinned. "You're jealous, because you want to have Ericka's attention all to yourself, don't you? And I'm taking it all away. You poor, poor  _stupid_  girl. You're in love with her, aren't you?"

"Don't pretend like you know anything about me," Mayhem growled, shaking the bars in her anger. Mari grinned. She knew a sign when she saw one; she'd just hit Mayhem's weak spot.

"That's why you left your family, isn't it?" Mari taunted her. "Because you were hoping that Ericka would love you back. You're the youngest child in an overly competitive family; I bet that you didn't feel much affection for your family. That's why you want Ericka's attention so badly; because it makes you feel loved. And that's why you fell in love with her. What a fool you are."  
  
"Shut up!" Mayhem screamed.

"You said it yourself, sweetie," Mari laughed. "Ericka is a psychopath. She'll never love you. You can blame that on me if you want, but the truth of the matter is, it's impossible for her to  _ever_ feel for you what you feel for her. You're never going to be happy if you keep pursuing that dream, Whitney. You might as well give up now. It'll save you a lot of trouble in the future."

Mayhem was practically shaking with anger now. She'd let go of the bars. If she had a gun, Mari was sure that she would've shot her by now.  
  
"No," Mayhem shook her head. "You're wrong. You're wrong about everything."

"You can keep telling yourself that," Mari smiled. "Keep yourself deluded. All you'll end up doing is hurting yourself. We both know that. If I were you, I'd go back to your family. Eugene wants you back. They all do."  
  
"Vixen isn't the only reason I'm here," Mayhem scoffed. "You have no idea how any of this works, do you? You think that Vixen preys on youthful, innocent girls? I was already committing crime when she found me, huddled in an alley after I ran away from home. If it wasn't for her, I would've starved to death on the streets."

"And now you're here," Mari breathed. "What a jump you've made."  
  
"You act like you're so high and mighty," Mayhem scowled. "Like you being a psychologist means you know everything about me. You don't. You don't know jack shit."  
  
"Then tell me I'm wrong," Mari walked over to the bars and grabbed them, staring Mayhem in the eyes. "Tell me that you don't love Ericka."  
  
Mayhem stared right back at her. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out.

"I'm  _waiting,_ " Mari sang.

There was a certain joy she felt from this, from getting under Mayhem's skin and making her suffer. Was this what Ericka felt like, whenever she manipulated someone or gave them an order? This rush of power, searing hot and exhilarating, that coursed through your veins and made you feel like a God?

"Fuck you," Mayhem turned on her heels and started walking towards the door, her heels clanking on the cold hard floor.

"That's what I thought," Mari grinned. "Oh, and Mayhem dear?"  
  
Mayhem stopped, her hand hovering over the door to the jail. There was a tear on her cheek that she quickly wiped away, but not before Mari noticed it. The sight made her smile widen.

"Did you get a good look?" Mari asked with a laugh.

The taller woman didn't respond, instead opening the door and slamming it behind her in anger. Mari watched her go through the glass until she rounded a corner and was out of sight.

She stepped back, smiling. The spider was still on the ground, trying to find an escape. But it didn't know what direction to go in, and kept going in circles, too stupid to accomplish its very simple task. The poor thing.

If she wanted to, she could save it. She could carry it to the bars of the cell and let it crawl away to freedom across the abandoned toy shop and the rest of the mall. It would take as much effort as lifting her finger, and she'd save a life, no matter how small and meaningless, in the process. 

Mari squashed it under her foot.


	32. Boze

"He's back," Rebel announced from the doorway of Boze's room.

"Who?" Boze asked, curling her fingers around her door.

"Lasercorn," Rebel replied. "He's returned."

That was all she needed to say to get Boze to throw her jacket on and rush out the door. Rebel could barely keep up with her as she sped into the food court.

Lasercorn was waiting for her, surrounded by all her girls, who were whispering among themselves excitedly. Boze walked up to him.

"Lasercorn," she stated, silencing her girls.

"Vixen," he replied.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

"The problem is dealt with," he replied.

"And Sohinki?" she raised an eyebrow.

Lasercorn gritted his teeth. "Dead."

She would've asked for more details, but his expression made her stop. He looked angry and hurt at the same time. The last thing he probably wanted to do was talk about what happened.

"Your son's in the nursery," Boze explained. Lasercorn closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath before shoving his way past her and towards the elevator. As soon as he was out of sight, her girls started whispering again, louder than before.

She'd talk to Lasercorn about it later. He'd killed Sohinki; that much was obvious. All she needed to know was how, and if it would circle back to her. The last thing she needed right now was to put her relationship with Poison and Antidote on the rocks. Not with what they were offering to do for her.

But she could do that later. Right now, she needed to do what she'd been putting off all day.

For the first time in her life, Boze was nervous about talking to someone. The lack of control she had over her situation with Mari was far from pleasant. Boze liked entering conversations with all the power, knowing exactly what to expect. Mari, however? She didn't even completely know who she was, let alone how to manipulate her.

Atomic was dead. She was sure of that. But after everything Mari had gone through, Boze had no idea how much of her former colleague was left.

There was only one way to figure out, however. And she had to do it, no matter how daunting the task seemed.

Boze walked over to the jail. Through the glass and bars, she could see Mari sitting on the ground, her hands folded on her lap with her eyes closed. It looked like she was meditating, but Boze didn't peg her as a spiritual person. Most likely, she was thinking, receding into her own mind to cure her boredom.

Her eyes shot open as soon as Boze opened the door. The two women stared at each other for a few seconds, before Boze walked over to the bars. She didn't want to get too close; for all she knew, Mari would attack her. It wouldn't be entirely off-brand for the woman she'd known.

"Took you long enough," Mari said as she climbed to her feet. She stretched and yawned. "Thought you forgot about me for a few hours there."

"I'd never forget about you, Mari," Boze replied before she really had enough time to think about her words.

"How sweet," Mari crossed her arms. "So. Why are you here?"  
  
"Would it be too unbelievable if I said that I just wanted to talk?" Boze asked, smiling.

"For you? Yes," Mari walked over to the bars and wrapped her hands around the bars. Boze noticed that she'd tore all her nails to their shortest possible length without making herself bleed. "You'd never do anything if it didn't benefit you."

"Who said that I wouldn't benefit from _just_  talking to you?" Boze asked.

Mari smiled. "I suppose you could."  
  
"How so?" Boze provided. This Mari certainly sounded different than the one she'd known. More confident in herself. That was interesting.

"Well, you're a psychologist," Mari narrowed her eyes. "You know how people's minds work. if you talk to me, get me to tell you about myself, then you could get a good grasp on who I am. You want to know if I'm the woman you remember me as. Am I wrong?"  
  
"No," Boze grinned. "Glad to see that you remember your training."

"I didn't rack up thousands of dollars in student debt just to forget everything I learned," Mari replied. "That would be a waste of my talents."  
  
"That it would be," Boze responded. "You were the top of your field."  
  
"Oh, was I?" Mari tilted her head. "It isn't like a psychopath to admit that someone is better than them."

"Well, maybe I was holding myself back a little," Boze admitted.

"Didn't want to seem too suspicious, hmm?" Mari replied. "You were a very good actress, I'll give you that. God, I was absolutely convinced that you were normal, and I was a psychologist. You can imagine how much of a shock it was to see you at that party."  
  
"Tell me, was I your first or second betrayal?" Boze asked.

"You were my first," Mari responded. "It was you, then... Joven, was it? And then Damien. After you, though, I stopped caring. Nothing shocked me after you."

"Was I really that important to you?" Boze smiled. "I'm honoured."

"No, it was more the realization that you were a psychopath that got to me," Mari replied. "Really showed me how  _good_  your lot is at blending in. If three licensed psychologists couldn't figure out what you were, then who could?"

"Another psychopath," Boze answered her. "I was quite good at it."

"Well, of course _you_  were," Mari laughed. "You're good at everything, aren't you?"

"What's with the flattery, Takahashi?" Boze asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Oh, don't call me that," Mari rolled her eyes. "You sound like Wes. Dr. Takahashi this and Dr. Takahashi that. Refused to call me by my name, he did. It got rather annoying by kidnap number three."

"Well then Mari, I've saved you from that," Boze replied. "You're welcome."  
  
"Oh, yes you did," Mari responded, leaning forwards. "And how beautifully you did, too. Killed him and then had me under your finger, running around trying to figure out who killed him when the true culprit was standing right next to me. I can only wonder how long it took you to plan that out."  
  
"And you always will," Boze smiled.

Mari chuckled. Boze was acutely aware of every detail of her face. Her eyes shone with delight, and her lips glittered in the light in a way that was far too inviting. The roots of her hair were black; Boze would have to give her some hair dye later, if she would take it.

"It's rather impressive, what you've done here," Mari gestured at the mall around them. "It feels like it came out of a movie, and yet it's real. Hundreds of girls, completely devoted to you, and the entire criminal underground under your control. I admire it."

"I'm glad you're impressed," Boze walked up to the bars, closing some of the distance between them. Up close, she could really admire how beautiful she was. It was no wonder why Silver had been so enamoured by her. Anyone who liked women would feel the same. "It took me a rather long time to build."

"And build you did," Mari breathed. "This is an empire."

"Where are you going with this?" Boze asked. If Mari was complimenting her, it meant that she had some sort of plan, some way to try and worm her way out of this. Mari knew that she wasn't Wes; if she wanted to escape, she'd need a better plan than acting and letting Boze bed her.

"I want in," Mari replied simply.

"What?" Boze asked, astonished. Did she mean what she thought she meant?

"I. Want. In," Mari smiled. "Into your organization. I want to be one of your girls. _Really_  be one of your girls, this time."

"Just yesterday, you were asking to leave," Boze pointed out. "What's with the sudden change of heart?"

"I've had a lot of time to think since yesterday," Mari replied. "Having nothing to do in an empty room does that to you. And I realized some things about myself."  
  
"Did you now?" Boze asked.

"I did," Mari nodded. "You see, Atomic's dead. I know she is. But... I'm not so sure if she's completely gone. Wesley Johnson really did fuck me up. Going back to my old life, to ballet... I don't think that's an option anymore. Not for me. I'd feel unfulfilled. And that's if I somehow managed to escape you and every other deranged lunatic who has it out for Silver's girl, which could never happen. I'm a part of your world now, whether I like or not. I might as well accept it."

There were a few seconds of silence as Boze mulled over her words. She couldn't trust Mari. Not in the slightest. But there was a chance that she was saying the truth. And it was a chance she was going to take.

"If you want to join, I'm not going to stop you," Boze replied. "I'm sure all of the brawlers miss you."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure they do," Mari smirked. "We all know how much Psycho  _adores_  me. We're practically like sisters.  
  
"Oh, Psycho's always been bad around pretty girls," Boze chuckled. "Can't decide if she's jealous of them or wants to be with them. It's her biggest struggle."  
  
Mari laughed. "So, when do I start?"  
  
"I need to make some arrangements for you first," Boze replied. "You understand, surely."  
  
"Of course," Mari agreed. "I'll be here."  
  
"See you soon," Boze nodded. "Glad to have you on the team, Mar."

Pain flashed in Mari's eyes for a second. Boze knew why. Ian always used to call her Mar. She'd never truly gotten over Ian; Boze could tell from the way she'd written about him.

"Glad to be here," to give her credit, Mari recovered quite quickly.

Boze smiled and walked towards the door, flinging it open and walking outside. She instantly made a beeline for the food court, which was safely out of Mari's view.

Mari must know that she wouldn't trust her straightaway. But it wouldn't hurt to not let her know that she knew that.

Madness was sitting with the rest of the watchers, chatting away. They all stopped talking when they saw her.

"Hello girls," Boze smiled. "Madness, can I talk to you for a second?"  
  
"Of course, Vixen," Madness said as she stood up. She had her brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her face was devoid of any makeup. Just like the rest of her watchers, you wouldn't remember her face seconds after looking away unless you wanted to.

She led Madness over to the escalator. "I have a job for you."  
  
"What is it?" Madness asked, throwing her hands in her pockets.  
  
"Mari Takahashi," Boze explained. "She wants to join us. I'm letting her, but I need you to keep an eye on her 24/7. I'm not sure if I can trust her yet."

"She's the one who used to be Atomic, right?" Madness tilted her head.

"Yes," Boze nodded. "But be careful. She is not the same woman Atomic was."  
  
"Well, if everything goes right, I won't get close enough to her to figure that out," Madness grinned. "You can count on me, boss."

"I know I can," Boze replied. "She'll be out soon. Find her at dinner."

Madness nodded and walked back towards her friends. Boze watched her go for a few seconds before going to find Rebel, who had the keys to the jail.

The woman in that cell wasn't Mari. At least, she wasn't the Mari she'd known. That Mari had been doing the exact same thing Boze was doing; trying to figure out who the woman in front of her was, worming their way into each other's brains. The Mari she'd known wouldn't do that with a smile on her face.

There was a different feeling to her, too; one of danger and power. Everything she'd gone through had changed Mari. And no matter how hard she tried, Boze wouldn't be able to change that.

But from what she'd seen, that wasn't going to be an issue.

Atomic had been Silver's dream girl. And this new Mari might just be Boze's.


	33. Mari

Rebel appeared at Mari's cell twenty minutes after Ericka left, holding a change of clothes. It was then that Mari realized that she hadn't taken a shower in a week. She must've gotten used to the smell of herself.

"Vixen wants you to take a shower," Rebel unlocked her cell and looked up at her. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," Mari grumbled as she snatched the clothes out of Rebel's hands and stormed out of the abandoned toy shop.

It was like the first time she'd seen the Compound. After spending so much time in that one room, she'd almost forgotten it. Every aspect, every detail of all the shops and girls seemed brand new to her. In a way, it was exhilarating. In another, it was terrifying. More than ever before, she was out of her element here.

Or was she? Mari couldn't deny it to herself; the thought of being one of Vixen's girls seemed far from unappealing to her. She knew she was messed up for feeling that way, but she couldn't shake it.

As she walked, every woman she passed turned to look at her, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping. Let them. Mari didn't care about how everyone else thought of her. She had far more pressing issues on her mind.

The bathrooms weren't far away from the jail, so she arrived quickly. The Compound hadn't come with showers, so some of Ericka's fixers had to make some. They'd truly done a splendid job, rearranging the pipes so the showers worked. Mari's only complaint was the water, which was always cold no matter how much you turned the dial. 

There was no one else in the bathroom, which Mari was grateful for. She'd had enough of being everyone's entertainment. Some alone time just what she needed.

She showered quickly. Showers always made her think, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was that. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, she wanted to enjoy her freedom.

When she finished, she grabbed one of the towels off the hooks on the wall and dried herself, before getting changed. The outfit Rebel had given her was the standard one for all of Ericka's girls; the black leather jacket, skinny white tank top, ripped jeans, and black pumps. There's even a little tube of lipstick lying on top.

Mari got changed and looked at herself in the mirror, which they'd fixed from the time she'd punched it. The woman staring back at her was almost unrecognizable. Her roots had started to grow in, and her eyes were hardened. She couldn't see any type of emotion in them. And as hard as she tried, she couldn't fill them with anything.

She gripped the sides of the sink basin, staring at the little white scars that freckled her hand. A reminder of the last time she'd looked in a mirror. After that, Atomic had avoided them like the plague.

But Mari's reflection didn't scare here. She knew who she was now. The burns on her temple weren't a mystery; they were a reassurance. Wesley had thought he had won. But he hadn't. She was back, and he was dead. Even if she wasn't the one who held the gun.

As soon as she got the chance, she was going to wash the remaining purple out of her hair, and burn the outfit Silver had made for her along with his bow. She was starting the third phase of her life. Dr. Takahashi. Atomic. And now, Mari. She didn't want to keep any mementos of the personas she'd left behind sitting around.

She looked back up at her reflection and grabbed her lipstick, applying it to her lips carefully. If you looked at her, you wouldn't be able to tell that she was any different than the rest of Ericka's girls. And that was exactly what she wanted.

Mari stepped back from the mirror and grabbed her last pair of clothes before throwing them in the trash. Without sparing another glance at her reflection, she walked out the door.

Dinner had started at some point. When she walked onto the food court, everyone went silent. She ignored them all and walked up to the Subway, and the dumbfounded woman who was serving the food.

"Can I have my dinner, please?" she asked as she crossed her arms.

The woman nodded and piled some spaghetti on a plate and handed it to her, the look of astonishment never leaving her face. Mari shot her a sarcastic smile as she took it.

She turned, searching the crowd. The watchers were sitting to the far left, grouped together like always. Ericka must've put one on her. There was no way that she wouldn't have.

None of them were giving her any signs to work with, however. She examined their faces, filing them to her memory. She'd figure out who it was eventually.

With everyone's eyes on her, she walked over to the brawler's table and sat down. They all gaped at her.

"Miss me?" she asked with a smile.

Jab dropped her fork.

"Atomic?" Wrath asked in astonishment. "What- what are you doing here?"  
  
"What I've always been doing here," Mari replied. "Eating."  
  
"That's not what I mean," Wrath shook her head. "Last I'd heard of you, Vixen had you locked up for attempted murder. We've been waiting to see you on the execution stage, not sauntering around as if nothing was different."

"I didn't try and kill Vixen," Mari responded as she took a bite of her spaghetti. 

"Uh, yeah, you did," Psycho looked at her like she was crazy. "Lunged at her and tried to kill her when you figured out she killed your  _precious_  Silver. Everyone knows that by now."  
  
"That wasn't me," Mari argued.

"What, is there some other Atomic walking around that we should know about?" Rage joked.

Mari stared staight at her. "There isn't any Atomic walking around."  
  
"Have you gone mad?" Wrath asked angrily. "Yes there is! I'm staring right at her! What's gotten into you?"  
  
"Atomic," Mari cut her spaghetti. "Is dead."

The other six women at the table stared at her in shock. Well, all of them but Pamick, that was. She'd figured it out as soon as she sat down.

"Mari," Pamick whispered, shaking her head with a smile.  
  
"It's good to be back," Mari replied with a grin.

"Vixen succeded?" Jab asked in wonder. "She reversed the electorshock therapy? You're, well, you again?"  
  
"I'd like to think that I did most of the work," Mari replied. "But, yes."  
  
"So you've actually got some brains in you," Psycho smiled. "That's a nice change."

"So, what's going to be your new name, then?" Wrath asked.

"Hm?" Mari looked up.

"Your new name," Wrath explained. "You can't go with Mari. We all take new names when we join. It's how you leave your past behind."

"My name's Mari," Mari replied tartly. It had taken too long to earn her name back. She wasn't going to drop it. Not now, not ever.

"You could go back to Atomic," Psycho suggested. "Reclaim the name that bastard gave you."  
  
"Or something cooler," Rage leaned forwards. "Tsunami, maybe. Or Crimson."  
  
"You could go with Victory," Jab piped up. "For, you know, beating Atomic."  
  
"Maybe Violet?" Wrath tilted her head. "For your hair?"  
  
Mari took a deep breath. "I'm not changing my name."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Wrath snorted. "If none of those work, you have plenty of time to-"  
  
Before she got a chance to finish her sentence, Mari grabbed her knife and stabbed the table in front of her with all of her strength. The blade went a good inch into the plastic.

"My. Name. Is. Mari." She growled.

It had gone completely silent in the food court. Everyone was looking between her and Wrath, their eyes darting back and forth. Mari stared at the taller woman, her nostrils flaring.

She was done with taking orders. With getting trampled on. Her name was Mari. And if Wrath wasn't going to accept that, then she'd  _make_ her.

"Don't start a fight you can't win," Wrath said, her voice as hard and cold as steel.

"I'm not," Mari replied, matching her tone.

These women had seen enough fights to know when one was about to start. As Mari and Wrath stood up, they all did too, and started moving tables to create a ring.

"I'm giving you one last chance to back out of this," Wrath stated. "I don't want to hurt you."  
  
"Good," Mari smiled. "Because you won't."  
  
She was most definitely making a terrible decision. Wrath was taller, bigger, and stronger than her. But Mari was tired of thinking. 

And, deep down, part of her, the part she didn't want to accept, wanted to see Wrath in pain. To make her bleed, and to feel her blood on her hands. 

"We'll see about that," Wrath growled.

Both women removed their leather jackets and stepped into the ring. The rest of Ericka's girls had circled around. They were whispering to one another. A few were even passing bets. This would be the most entertaining thing that had happened here in weeks.

Let them enjoy the spectacle. By this point, Mari couldn't have given less of a shit.

The two women circled each other, fists raised. The lessons she'd learned from her opponent ran through Mari's head as she sized her up.

Wrath depended on her strength too much. Mari had watched her fight enough to know that. With her small size, she could take advantage of that weakness.

Her opponent struck first. Mari easily ducked under her arm and circled behind her, jabbing her in the back. Wrath roared in anger and spun around to face her, swinging again.

Mari kept going, ducking and jabbing. It was the most fun she'd had in ages, weaving through Wrath's attempts as if she was swimming in water. She could see her opponent getting angrier and angrier as time went on, which was just an added bonus, really.

But she got too cocky, and Wrath kicked her in the leg. Hard.

The crowd cheered as Mari crumbled. She barely managed to roll away in time before Wrath's foot stomped down where she'd been lying seconds before. Shakingly, she got to her feet.

That was where the fun ended. Rage clouded her vision as she raised her fists once again, breathing hard. She wanted to end this. Now.

Wrath swung at her yet again, and this time, instead of jabbing her, Mari bodyslammed her side. The taller woman went down, hitting the ground with a large smack. When she flipped herself around, Mari pinned her down with her knees.

Before Wrath had enough time to shake her off, Mari started pummeling her in the face. Punch after punch, as hard as she could, to the cheers of her audience. Once Wrath stopped struggling, she stopped.

By that point, Wrath's face was a bloody mess. Mari could still feel the rise and fall of her chest, so she wasn't worried about whether or not she killed her. She stopped for a reason, after all; she didn't start this fight with the objective of being the only one to leave it.

As Medic and some other girls grabbed Wrath's unconscious form and carried it to infirmary, Mari stared at her blood-soaked hands. She should feel disgusted with herself. Dr. Takahashi would've.

But she didn't. Instead, she felt exhilarated. The blood was warm and sticky, yet it felt comforting on her skin. She barely resisted the urge to rub it on her face.

Was she losing her mind? Probably. But in that moment, she didn't care.

She felt a pair of eyes on her, and looked up at the bannister to see Ericka. The darker skinned woman had a smile on her face, and excitement glittered in her eyes. There was a glass of wine in her hand; she'd probably been watching the fight. It was certainly an event that fit her tastes.

Mari smiled back at her.


	34. Boze

"Is she going to be okay?"

Wrath's body was lying on the hospital bed. Medic had washed all of the blood off her face, and bandaged up her wounds. Boze looked at her through the glass, rubbing her arm.

She'd let the fight happen without lifting a finger to do anything. Wrath was supposed to be the one who won. She would've put Mari down easily, most likely with a quick blow to the head. That was what Boze had expected to happen as she watched.

But it hadn't. And while seeing Mari like that, rage written clearly on her face as she pummeled Wrath again and again, had been far from an unpleasant experience, Boze didn't want Wrath to die. She was loyal and hardworking, and the way she led the brawlers was flawless. It would be a waste to have her die like this.

"You think that a few punches would be enough to take her out?" Medic smiled as she removed her bloodstained gloves. "She'll be fine."  
  
"Good," Boze sighed in relief.

"I don't think that Mari was trying to kill her," Medic stated. "She would've done a better job if she was trying."

"Why would anyone think that in the first place?" Boze asked as she turned to look at the brown-haired woman.

"From what we've all heard of Mariko Takahashi, beating Wrath up like that was... out of character, to say the least," Medic explained. "We don't know what to think. This whole Mari thing has been very... sudden."  
  
"Everyone will get used to her before long," Boze replied.

"I'm sure we will," Medic responded. "But it will be a while. We don't know what to expect from her. This violent episode... no one will forget it. I guarantee you that."

"I wasn't expecting anyone to," Boze closed her eyes for a few seconds, taking a deep breath. "I'll talk to her about it."

"Please do," Medic nodded. "Not many girls can take a beating like Wrath can. If this happens again..."

"It won't," Boze stated.  
  
"Let's hope it doesn't," Medic sighed.

Boze took a deep breath before exiting the Infirmary. She'd been expecting a lot of things from Mari, but this? This had taken her completely by surprise.

Sure, Mari had been different when she'd talked to her in the cell. But this violence... nothing she'd done had suggested that she'd have any violent tendencies. Boze must be getting sloppy. If she was on the top of her game, she would've been able to spot any sign of that from a mile away.

Psycho was waiting for her outside of the Infirmary, along with the rest of the brawlers. Their eyes lit up when they saw her, expecting news.

"She'll be fine," Boze reassured them. "Psycho, could you please get Mari for me?"  
  
The platinum-haired woman nodded and sprinted away instantly, off to do what she'd asked. She'd always been an overachiever, that one.

As she waited, Boze got some wine from her room and poured two glasses, before walking back out. Psycho arrived a few minutes later, Mari right behind her.

In the past half-hour, Mari had cleaned herself off. She'd made no attempt to bandage her knuckles, which were bruised and busted from the fight. The rage that had once consumed her eyes was gone, replaced with emptiness. If she feared a punishment, she didn't show it.

"Leave us," she instructed her brawlers as she handed a glass of wine to Mari, which she took. The brawlers did as she asked, running down the escalator as fast as they could.

Boze leaned against the bannister and took a sip of her wine. "So."  
  
"So," Mari replied.

"You've beaten my best fighter," Boze smiled. "Does that make you my best fighter now?"  
  
"I got lucky," Mari walked to her side and leaned over the bannister, looking down at the women below. "Wrath could beat me any time she liked."  
  
"No, there was some skill there," Boze replied. "You've learned a lot in your time here."

"That's an understatement," Mari breathed.

There were a few seconds of silence as Mari sipped her wine and Boze looked at her. Like always, she was stricken with how beautiful Mari was. Even with her roots grown back in and dark bags under her eyes, she looked stunning.

"Get on with it," Mari sighed.

"What?" Boze asked.

"Start asking your questions," Mari looked at her. "Get inside my head. Figure out exactly why I got into that fight. Make your little psych evaluation on me, see what makes me tick. It's what you do best."  
  
"And you're not going to try and stop me?" Boze asked.

"Why would I?" Mari laughed. "It's what I did to you the last time we talked. You're as much a mystery to me as I am to you."  
  
"I doubt that's true," Boze replied.

"No, it's not," Mari smiled. "I think I know who you are now. Who you truly are."  
  
"Please, then," Boze urged her. "Tell me who I am, Mari. I'm quite curious."

"You're a psychopath, obviously," Mari replied, looking back over the bannister. "You love power and manipulation. People are tools to you. Nothing unique in that regard. What is unique, however, is that your girls are important to you. Important like a teddy bear is important to a toddler, maybe, but important nonetheless. You care about them as much as you can. This empire you've created is everything to you, and they're all a part of it. You have the ability to care about people, maybe even love them; or, at least, however close you can get to it."  
  
"Is that it?" Boze asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Oh, no," Mari chuckled. "There's a lot more too you than that. I just don't know what it is. You're very good at hiding your personality."  
  
"So you don't know too much about me after all, then, do you?" Boze tilted her head.

"I know enough," Mari sighed. "Enough to know what to expect. So, get on with it. I've already thought out some answers."

"Well then," Boze turned so she was facing the same direction as the other woman, her elbows resting on the railing. "Why did you attack Wrath, Mari?"  
  
"I was angry," Mari replied. "They kept wanting me to change my name. I don't want to pretend I'm anyone other than myself anymore. I spent too much time as someone else to ever want to go back to it."

"And the anger? The violent urge to attack Wrath?" Boze proded. "Where'd that come from? The Mari I knew would never do that."  
  
Mari closed her eyes. "I'm not entirely sure if I have an answer to that."  
  
"Try," Boze replied. 

"When I was a little girl, and we'd first moved here from Japan, I felt like an outcast," Mari started to explain. "I wanted to fit in desperately. So, when I saw some of the boys burning ants with a magnifying glass, I decided to join them. It was fun to watch their little bodies shrivel up under my eye. It was how I met Ian, actually; he tried to stop us. Took him a little while to trust me after seeing me do that.

"The reason he'd understood though, how he'd known what we were doing to those poor ants, was because he'd lost his aunt a month prior. The rest of us had no comprehension of death, or pain; real pain. When we picked up those magnifying glasses, we didn't know what we were doing to those ants; not truly. To us, it was like a game. We didn't know how much suffering we were causing those poor little ants.

"There's been a point in everyone's life, when they were a child, where they were a little psychotic. Some of us more than others, yes, but there's always been that time where you didn't have a sense of empathy, because you didn't know what it was yet. But then your cat dies, or you fall off your bike one too many times, and then you just can't pick up that magnifying glass anymore without feeling guilty when you see those ants burn. But somewhere, deep in our subconscious, we must remember what it's like to not care. To let them burn.

"When Wesley electrocuted me, I think he... reawakened that feeling. That lack of empathy, and brought it back into the forefront. And even though Atomic understood pain and death, I think that lack remained, just like it would in a sociopath. Perhaps it was a way for my brain to ignore the trauma it had gone through. But it was there.

"And even though she's dead, I think... I think that's still there. That my brain is still using it as a coping method. And no amount of yelling at me is going to get rid of that."

"You're a sociopath," Boze stated softly. It made perfect sense; Mari had certainly gone through enough trauma to fuck her up for life by now, Atomic or no Atomic.

"I don't think it's that cut and dry," Mari replied. "Nothing is, when it comes to the human brain. I have that lack of empathy, but I still feel emotions. I feel a sense of mourning when I think of Ian. I feel fear and happiness and sadness and everything. Even sympathy. I feel bad for putting Wrath in that condition."

"Then you do have empathy," Boze responded.

"No, I don't," Mari shook her head. "Because I don't feel for  _her._ I feel for myself. I feel guilty because I would miss her if she died. If I had done that to a complete stranger... I wouldn't have cared at all."

"You're like me," Boze breathed. It was uncanny how similar to her that was. Not caring about someone unless they were useful to you... she'd always been like that, from the day she was born to this second. "That's just like me."

Mari looked at her. "Just my luck, huh. We all know how much I've always wanted to be psychotic. My next book should be about me."

"You'd be put in a mental asylum, if anyone heard what you'd just told me," Boze stated.

"Perhaps," Mari laughed softly. "At least I'd get to talk to Courtney again, then."

"Are you planning on talking to her again?" Boze asked. She'd expected that Mari would.

"I hope so," Mari replied. "Truth be told, I don't have any plans for my future. I don't want to think about it."  
  
"But you want to stay here," Boze asked. "You truly do."  
  
Mari nodded. "There's nowhere else for me to go. I could never go back to my normal life again. Wesley Johnson took that option away from me when he strapped me down and fried my brain. Your world was made for people like me. This is where I belong now. It's the only place I ever will."

"And you're not lying to me?" Boze raised an eyebrow. Mari didn't seem like she was lying, and everything she had said made perfect sense, but there was that possibility.

"Why would I?" Mari sighed. "What would be in it for me? If I wanted to escape, I would've snuck out while everyone ate dinner."

"Well then, Mariko Takahashi," Boze held her glass out in front of her. "To the newest member of my organization."  
  
"To me," Mari replied as she tapped her glass against her's. The two women drank. "And I've selected my name. Just Mari. No iko, no Takahashi. Just Mari."

"Glad to have you here, then, Mari," Boze smiled.

"Glad to be here, Vixen. Or Ericka. Or whatever the fuck I'm supposed to call you," Mari smiled right back.

Boze's mouth moved before she could think about what she was about to say. "Boze. Call me Boze."  
  
"Boze," Mari tested the word out on her tongue. "I like it."

She moved her hand on the railing until it was touching Boze's slightly, before staring into Boze's eyes and smiling. Boze smiled right back, and the two women downed the rest of their wine to the sounds of the conversations below them.


	35. Mari

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mari?" Boze asked. "I could send him home with a snap of my fingers. You don't have to speak to him."

"No," Mari closed her eyes. "He's been through so much because of me. I owe him an explanation, at the very least."

"If that's what you want," Boze replied as she opened the door. "Then that's what will happen."

Books where littered around the floor, no doubt his only source of entertainment over the past two weeks. The only piece of furniture in the room was a bed, which he was sitting on.

Eugene.

Boze closed the door behind her. Mari heard it click as Eugene got to his feet.

"Mari?" he asked.

"Hey, Eugene," she replied awkwardly, thrusting her hands into her pockets. "It's been awhile."

"Is it you?" he blinked a few times, as if he thought she was nothing but a blur in his vision.

"It's me," she looked down. "Really me. Atomic is dead."

He walked over to her and cupped her cheek with his hand. She let him. "I can't believe it. I thought I'd lost you forever."

Slowly, he brought her lips to his. Mari closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy it for a few seconds, before pulling away. It would be cruel to lead him on. "Eugene-"

"We need to get out of here," he started whispering. "If we get out of here, we can alert the police about her location, and she'll be taken down. We could end this, Mari, right here, right now, the two of us. And when this nightmare is over, we could finally be-"

"Eugene!" she shouted, cutting him off. She couldn't listen to him anymore. It was too painful, to have such a stark reminder of what she could have, so tantalizingly close yet so far. Eugene had been Mariko Takahashi's; she had no future with him. "Eugene, I'm not going anywhere."

He froze. "What?"

"This is where I belong," she tried to keep her face as expressionless as possible. "I've joined her. This is my home now."

Eugene shook his head. "That's a joke, right? You're joking."

"I'm not joking," Mari stated. "This is over, Eugene. She's going to start over. Forget about me."

"Are you insane?" he yelled. "Do you really think that I'd leave you here? I love you, Mari. This isn't where you belong. You're too good for this."

"I'm not the same woman you knew, Eugene," the pain had faded. He looked pathetic, tears running down his eyes, shaking. There was a fragility to him. If she touched him too hard, he'd break. And she wouldn't care. Her past memories with him seemed dull now, and a life with him anything but appealing. "Get over me."

He reached for her hands with his. "Mari-"

Mari grabbed the needle Boze had given her from her pocket and jabbed it into his shoulder, pushing down the plunger. He yelped and jumped back, but it was too late. He collapsed a few seconds later, knocked unconscious.

She walked over to the door and knocked. Boze opened it, and two delivery girls rushed forwards to collect him. By the time he woke up, he'd be back in his home in Texas.

"You okay?" Boze asked as Mari walked out of the room.

"Never been better," Mari replied with a smile. Boze smiled back.

With those words, Mari walked down to the parking lot to join her fellow brawlers in practising.

• • •

Wrath rejoined them at dinner, half of her face still bandaged. Mari hadn't done any real damage to her, so she wasn't angry. Once the two of them got over the tension, it was quite fun to talk to her. Mari could tell that all of her fellow brawlers liked her more than Atomic, and she didn't blame them. Atomic had barely even spoken to them.

She decided to go straight to bed afterwards. Last night, she'd barely gotten any sleep. The last thing she needed was to stay up partying.

Just as she got off the elevator, she heard a familiar voice. "Mari?"

She spun. David Moss, or Lasercorn, was standing outside one of Vixen's guest rooms, his hands in his pockets. "Yes?"

"Can I talk to you?" he asked. There was vulnerability in his eyes.

"About what?" she crossed her arms.

"You remember him now, right?" Lasercorn asked hopefully.

Mari barely even had to think before she was walking forwards, shoving him out of her way as she entered his room. It looked almost exactly like Eugene's had, except this one had a desk, chair, and a computer. Sitting next to the keyboard was a book; her book. A bookmark was shoved in between its pages, and she had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly where it was.

She walked over to the desk and sat down on the chair. Lasercorn sat down on the bed across from her and buried his face in his hands.

"You wanted to talk," she breathed.

"I did," he replied.

"Then let's talk."

On some level, she knew that it probably wasn't the smartest move to come in here. Ever since Ian had died, she'd tried not to think about him. It was too painful. He was too painful.

But Lasercorn was a secret Ian had kept from her until his dying breath. There was a chance that he knew a completely different side to the man she'd considered her brother. And it was a side she wanted to see.

"In any of our sessions, did I ever tell you how I started?" he asked. 

"No," Mari replied. "I knew about your childhood, but you never told me anything about it, even when I tried asking."

"Of course I didn't," he sighed. "I wasn't born this way, you know. Or, at least, I don't think I was. Vixen always told me that I wasn't. That it was my father's fault."

"Abusive," Mari remembered.

Lasercorn closed his eyes. "My mother left me with him when I was two. He drank daily, and then he'd beat me. It got the point where we were on a routine. Vixen said that that would've been around the time I became a sociopath. To make the pain better."

"He died in a fire," when she had been his psychologist, she'd scoured his files, trying to figure out what made him tick. "When you were ten."

"Our entire house, up in flames," Lasercorn smiled as he thought about the memory. "I made it out, and he didn't. As I watched the flames and listened to his screams, I remember thinking; if fire can destroy a monster like that, what else can it do?"

"That's why you burned all of your victims alive?" Mari asked. 

Lasercorn nodded. "Their screams reminded me of his, and how I was free from him."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.

"Did you know what made Silver the way he was?" Lasercorn looked up at her, completely ignoring her question.

"His fiancée cheated on him in his own bed," she replied. "Sent him off the deep end."

"No, it was more than that," Lasercorn chuckled. "He was the oldest of seven siblings. In that household, everyone was constantly battling for their parents' attention. But Silver was at a disadvantage; he had ADHD. And seeing as his parents were 'it's all in your head' assholes, they never got him the help and medicine he needed. He could never pay attention in school, and his grades suffered for it. For a family where you needed to be perfect, his parents ignored him for his brothers and sisters. All in all, your classic case of child neglect."

Lasercorn leaned forward. "So when he fell in love with a girl who said that she loved him back, words he'd never heard come from anyone's lips before in his life, you can imagine how much it hurt to see her cheat on him, in his own bed nonetheless. But it wasn't Remina that turned him the way he was. Remina was just the tip of the iceberg."

"Are you trying to make me feel sorry for him?" Mari asked.

"No," Lasercorn shook his head. "I'm trying to make you understand him, and, by extension, all of us. There are certain things you can't find in a file. Like Vixen."

"Vixen," Mari repeated.

"She had no father growing up, and lived in a perpetual state of poverty," Lasercorn described. "Her mother was addicted to meth, and would bring home... questionable characters."

"Did they ever do anything to her?" Mari asked.

"She would have stabbed them if they ever tried," he laughed. "But she had to hide from them. Murder is messy when you're seven. So when you factor in the fact that she never felt like she had any control at home..."

"Then it would make sense as too why she'd be so desperate for power here," Mari finished.

"Exactly," Lasercorn smiled. "We all want power. None of us had any growing up. Silver, Vixen, Blade, Night Rider, Pamick, Poison, Antidote, we all wanted the same thing. All of us, that was, but me."

"And why was that?" Mari asked.

"I wanted to escape," Lasercorn explained. "That's all I ever wanted. For the longest time, I told myself that I was like everyone else. That I wanted power. But I don't. All I want is to feel free, free from the burdens of my past. I want to be normal."

"Normal," Mari echoed.

"That's why I dated people," Lasercorn sighed. "Everyone else did it for sex. But me? I did it because I wanted love, even if I never let me admit that to myself."

"And that's why you dated him," Mari guessed.

Lasercorn nodded. "I met him when Tyler was seven months old. By that time, Sabrina and I were on the rocks, arguing practically every night. The only reason we were still together was because of him. I didn't want to leave him like my mother left me.

"We met at a bar. I talked to him for a few hours, got his number, even though I knew that I shouldn't. But I was completely captivated by him. We texted nightly, and I found myself going back to the bar on nights when I knew he'd be there. We did that for a month. I knew I was leading him on, but I couldn't pull myself away.

"And then, one night, he kissed me. He probably wanted to do more, but I stopped him. But the second his lips touched mine, I knew that I couldn't get rid of him. And I wasn't about to cheat on the mother of my child. So I drove home, and I told Sabrina that I wanted a divorce.

"From then on out, it was him. He was my everything. I tried so hard to pretend I was normal, to keep him fooled, to make him want to be with me. But I was foolish to think I could fool a psychologist. He figured out what I was. And when he ended it, I was destroyed.

"I drank. My murderers got sloppy to the point where there were witnesses. When I got arrested, I blamed him. I hated him. I wanted to murder him.

"But when I figured out he was dead, I realized that it wasn't him I hated. It was myself. You never know what you have until it's gone. And then he was gone, and I wanted him back more than anything I'd ever wanted before."

A tear slipped down his cheek. "I'm supposed to be exempt from this. I'm not supposed to be able to love. It's a sociopath's greatest strength. So why does it hurt so much?"

"I don't know," Mari whispered. She felt like crying herself. Oh, God, Ian. "He never even told me about you. When the cops found your texts in his phone, I didn't believe them for the longest time. It seemed fake to me. I didn't even know he was gay!"

"Of course you didn't," Lasercorn sniffled. "He wouldn't have told you. You meant too much to him."

"He knew I was bi," Mari protested. "There was no way he thought I was homophobic."

"And he didn't think his parents were, either," Lasercorn sighed. "Didn't change the fact that the day he came out to them was the last day he ever spoke to them. With them gone, you were the closest thing to family that he had left. He couldn't afford to lose you."

She buried her head in her hands and started to sob. She'd never let herself think about Ian. When she'd written the chapter with his death in it in her book, she'd tried to bury him within the pages. She'd shoved her feelings about him deep inside her, so she wouldn't have to feel them. It was too painful.

But it was all coming back now. And, for the first time, in a room with a serial killer, she finally let herself truly mourn her best friend.


	36. Mari

She had been given the same bed she's always had, in the back of the abandoned Target. When she walked in, she noticed that the room was abandoned. Good. She knew that Boze would've forbidden her from doing what she was about to do. Having someone see her was the last thing she needed.

The last two things she had left of Wes, the bow and her outfit, were underneath the bed, exactly where she left them. She pulled them out and laid them on the mattress with a sigh, throwing the duffel bag she'd stolen from the delivery girls down beside it.

A part of her almost wanted to keep them. It was a good bow, after all, and Wes had had some skill when it came to fashion. But she didn't need any reminders of him lying around. Not if she wanted to start over.

She threw the items into the duffel bag and threw it over her shoulder, rushing out of the sleeping quarters as fast as she could. Most of the girls were in the bar; she'd have to be quick if she wanted to return before they all went to bed.

Boze kept the doors to the Compound locked at all times, to keep out any teenagers who wanted to explore the abandoned mall. Even if that wasn't true, there were always girls guarding the entrances. So Mari had only one way to get out; through the parking lot.

Without anyone working, the lights in the parking lot were turned off. Mari had to use the flashlight on the phone that Boze had  _finally_ supplied her with to navigate out, though it didn't make her surroundings any less creepy. Despite wearing a hoodie, she felt very cold.

The entrance to the parking lot was protected by a metal gate. Through the cracks, Mari could see the inky blackness of the night sky over the rooves of a few boarded-up houses. It had been a while since she'd seen the sky, and the sight wasn't lost on her.

After looking out for a few seconds, she scoured the walls for a button. It didn't take long to find it, to her left. There wasn't anything concealing it; Boze wasn't worried about keeping people in, after all. Only about keeping them out.

As soon as she pressed it, the metal gate started moving, receding into the ceiling. She slipped under it as soon as there was enough room, pulling her hood over her head as she did. If someone recognized her... she didn't know if Boze would be able to get her out of that one.

Hoping that the door wouldn't automatically shut, Mari started walking down the deserted streets. The duffel bag felt heavy on her shoulder. Before long, she was jogging. She wanted to get this over with quickly.

Few people paid her any attention as she made her way through town. She didn't know where the Compound was, but her phone had a map with a GPS, so she was sure she'd be able to find her way back. And once she passed the noodles restaurant which had held the mass majority of her dates with Peter, she knew exactly where she was.

Her apartment complex appeared in front of her ten minutes later. None of the lights were on; it seemed that her bitch of a landlord still turned off the power at eleven. For once, she was glad for it.

She walked over to the side of the building and found a handhold in the jagged concrete. Slowly, she started making her way up, using windows as footstools. It was far from easy, but she managed.

Before long, she was at her window. To her surprise, it wasn't locked. She pushed it up and jumped inside.

Everything was exactly as she had left it, despite the fact that the police must've come through at some point. Knowing her landlord, it was a surprise that her stuff wasn't on the streets. If that man was paid even a day late...

Someone must be paying for it, hoping that she'd return one day. And Mari had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly who that someone was.

 _Oh, Mom,_ Mari picked up the one framed picture she had of her parents. _Dad. I'm so sorry._

She shoved it into her duffel bag.

As she walked around her apartment, picking up everything that had any meaning to her, she tried to avoid looking at anything as best as she could. Pictures, books, posters; it all went in the bag. When the bag got too full to carry, she slung it over her shoulder and made her way back to the window.

The climb down was just as gruelling as the climb up, seeing as she had so much extra weight now. Once her feet finally hit the ground, she was panting.

Despite her exhaustion, she forced herself to start running again. Luckily, her destination was less than a mile away from her apartment. Or, she supposed, what used to be her apartment.

God, had she missed feeling sand under her feet. Even when she'd been free and normal, she hadn't gone to the beach nearly as often as she should've, too consumed with work to find time too. She'd regret that for the rest of her life.

But there wasn't any time to properly enjoy it. She sprung into action, collecting wood and arranging it into a pile. Hopefully, no one would think anything of a beach bonfire at this hour. And if they did... well, she had a bow.

Once she was satisfied with her pile, she emptied her duffel bag's contents onto the sand and scavenged around for her matches, which she found easily. She lit one and stared at the flames for a few seconds before throwing it onto the fire.

It took a few seconds for the wood to alight. Before long, Mari had a fire at her feet, burning hot and exactly as she'd planned.

The first two objects were the easiest to burn. Her sparkling outfit and bow, thrown into the flames. Watching them shrivel up and crumble brought her more satisfaction than she could express. For in her mind, burning those ridiculously purple items was like burning  _him._

Wesley Alan Johnson was lucky that Boze had been the one to kill him. If she had him in her hands right now... she'd do things that even his twisted mind wouldn't have been able to dream of.

But once those were gone, then it got hard. She hadn't just come here to burn Atomic, after all. She'd also come to burn Mariko Takahashi.

The first item she picked up was a medal she'd received for winning a dancing competition when she was seven. Her mother had gotten her ice-cream afterwards to celebrate. It was one of her happiest memories.

Mari threw it into the fire.

After that, it was a flurry of items. She tried not to think about it as she threw them in, one after another, watching them all blacken before her. Each item she threw sent more pain searing through her body. It would've hurt less to be stabbed.

Eventually, she only had one item left; the picture she and Ian had taken together during their high school education, in their black robes, smiling like they didn't have a care in the world. THis was all she had left of him; she'd given Lasercorn his picture back.

Mari closed her eyes, and was surprised that no tears came. She kissed the photo and threw it in.  Ian had been a huge part of Mariko Takahashi's life; to start over, she'd have to leave him behind.

In Lasercorn's room, she'd accepted his death. Now, she had to let him go.

The photo landed in the fire. Mari watched as Ian's face crumpled and blackened, until nothing about it was recognizable. She watched until the fire went out, and she was alone with the charred mound of memories.

Did she really want to do this? Was any of this worth it? Sure, she found a place among Boze's girls, one that she liked. And she was certain that she'd never be able to fit in with society again. But shouldn't she have given it a shot?

Mari sighed and laid back in the sand. She was sure that she'd doubt her decision for the rest of her life. But deep down, she knew that it was the right one; no matter how painful it was.

Besides, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to leave Boze. After everything that woman had put her through, and everything they'd been through together, Mari felt like they were connected. A part of her never wanted to leave Boze's side.

According to Mayhem, Boze was in love with her. Mari would've doubted that a few weeks ago, but from the way Boze had looked at her last night... well, it was possible. And something told her that the name "Boze" had some sort of symbolic meaning to the woman who used it. She wouldn't have shared it with her if it didn't.

Either way, Mari wasn't closed off to the idea of a relationship with Boze. She was beautiful, smart, strong, and pretty much everything Mari found attractive in a woman. Mari was definitely attracted to her, and if Boze made a move first, then she'd see where it went. Maybe, if she gave it time, she would fall in love with Boze. Who knows; maybe she would love her someday.

Her life was an abundance of possibilities now. She might as well explore them.

She checked the time on her phone. 4 am. The sun would be rising soon, and she didn't want to be here when it did. Boze had probably noticed that she was missing by now; whether or not she'd be punished for it was still to be determined.

Mari got to her feet and slung the duffel bag back over her shoulders before starting to jog again, her GPS open on her phone to tell her the way, leaving the remainders of the two women she had once been behind her. She didn't even glance back.


	37. Boze

"You're insane."

Lasercorn was standing in front of the meeting room table, his hands resting on the plastic. Her plans were strewn across the surface, making the entire area white. 

"Can you do it?" Boze asked, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

He chuckled. "Of course I can. How you're going to pull it off, on the other hand..."

"You know me, Lasercorn," she smiled. "I can pull it off. What will you need?"

He ran his fingers across the little x's she'd placed on the blueprint. "A lot more than you can remember. I'll need to make a list."  
  
"We can easily supply you with paper," Boze replied with a smirk.  
  
"You're asking a lot from me here, you know?" he looked up. "What am I going to get out of this?"  
  
"What do you want?" she tilted her head.

"Still got that jet?" he asked. She nodded. "Then I want you to get me to Peru."  
  
"Peru?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why in the world do you want to go there?"  
  
"According to my father, my mother always wanted to see the Andes," he explained. "It's not much, but it's the closest thing I have to a lead."

"You want to find your mother," Boze stated.

"She left me with that monster," Lasercorn growled. "I'm going to kill her."

"It'll take you years to do that," Boze pointed out. "What about our world? Your son? Are you really going to give that all up?"  
  
"I'm not you, Boze," he pursed his lips. "The only reason I'm apart of this  _world_  is because I liked killing people. All of these politics, betrayals, and schemes... that's not me. I'm not a fucking Game of Thrones character. I have no place in this  _world._  Not like you do."

"And your son?" Boze asked.

"I love Tyler more than anything," she noticed a tear in his eye. "But he deserves better than this. Once I'm gone, I want him to be returned to Sabrina. She'd give him a better life than I ever could."

"Are you sure you want to do this, L-Corn?" Boze didn't want him to go. Lasercorn had some talents that she would miss utilizing. 

"Wouldn't be telling you about it if I didn't," he sighed. "Now, I'm going to need that paper you promised."

• • •

Mayhem and the rest of the delivery girls had managed to get their hands on everything Lasercorn needed. The parking lot had been turned into a workshop as he and the fixers constructed what she'd asked for. Whenever she went down there, she was met with the sight of forty people wielding blowtorches and wearing welding helmets.

All it would take was one error, and everyone in the Compound would die. But Boze wasn't worried. She trusted her girls completely.

"Are you sure it's the best move to be so... grandiose with this?" Pamick asked three days after work had begun. She had to yell to be heard.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Boze yelled back.

"It'll attract a lot of attention," Pamick replied, leaning against the wall beside her. "Getting rid of Bereta will mean nothing if he's replaced with ten others."

"We want attention," Boze replied.

Pamick looked at her like she was insane. "Why would we want that?"  
  
"You don't think that I'd settle for this, do you?" Boze looked at her. "I've done all I can in L.A. It's time to branch out."  
  
"Branch out," Pamick repeated.

"Other cities, states, countries, continents," Boze replied. "We're going to expand."

"Are you crazy?" Pamick asked incredulously. "You've pulled off some insane shit in the past, but what you're describing is impossible. It took us long enough to get to this point. That'll take several lifetimes."

"There has to be other worlds like ours out there," Boze explained. "I'm going to find them, connect them. And there are millions of women like us out there, Pam. So much untapped potential. And so much corruption amongst the FBI and all the other agencies the government could put on our ass; even amongst the government itself. If I play all of my cards right, I could accomplish anything. And I  _always_  play my cards right."  
  
"You want to rule the world," Pamick shook her head in disbelief. "You want to rule the goddamn world."

"I already indirectly rule this city," Boze smiled. "Who says I couldn't do the same with every city out there?"

Pamick laughed. "You've got balls, Vixen. I'll give you that."

"Well, are you with me?" Boze asked. "You'd be one of my right-hand women. Just imagine what having all that power must feel like."

"I think you've gone mad," Pamick replied with a smile. "And that you'll never succeed in fulfilling your ambitions. But God, does it sound  _fun_."

"Good," Boze looked back at the workers. "This is the first step of many, Pam. They day this is done will be the day they mark in the history textbooks as the start of my reign."

Pamick whispered something about her being "absolutely insane" under her breath, but didn't respond. Boze didn't need her too. She knew that her girls would follow her anywhere, no matter how crazy their destination was. 

All her life, she'd wanted power. And she'd stop at nothing to get it. She wasn't sure if she could ever gain enough to satisfy her need for it, but that didn't mean she was going to stop trying. Boze was going to keep climbing the ladder of power until someone kicked her off.

Maybe she was insane. But she didn't care. She wanted people to know her name, to tremble at the sound of it. She wanted to destroy the world; no matter what it took. And by God, was she going to do it. Every contender she'd ever had was either dead, or was going to be dead very soon; and every new one she'd gain would face the same fate.

She was unstoppable.

• • •

When Boze entered her room, she found Mari already there, her fingers clasped around a glass of wine as she sat on Boze's countertop. If it had been anyone else, Boze would've had her whipped for entering her room without permission. But it was Mari, and Boze had a feeling that she'd let that woman get away with anything.

"Fancy seeing you here," Boze stated as she closed the door and leaned against it.

Mari shrugged and took a sip of her wine. "I wanted to talk to you."  
  
Boze spread her hands. "Talk away."  
  
"This mission you're planning," Mari started. "The one to kill the mayor. You won't tell anyone about its details."  
  
"And?" Boze raised an eyebrow.

" _And_  I want you to tell me the details," Mari replied. "I'm one of your girls now. Wrath has already put me on the mission. I should at least know what I'm signing up for."  
  
"If I'm not telling any of my other girls, why would I tell you?" Boze asked.

Mari put her wine glass down and walked up to her. "Because I'm not _just_  one of your girls, am I?"

"What are you, then?" Boze replied.

"You tell me," Mari placed her hand on the door beside Boze's head. That was when she realized what Mari was doing.

_She's flirting with me._

The realization was far from unpleasant.

"I don't quite get what you're getting at here, Mari," Boze lied.

"How many of your girls would you spend weeks trying to get back if they went through what I did?" Mari asked, her voice low. "Pardon me for saying this,  _boss,_ but I think I'm a little more important to you than any of your other girls."

"That's a little self-centered of you," Boze joked.

Mari laughed. "I suppose it is. But, please, tell me I'm wrong. Everyone else agrees with me on this one."  
  
"Do they now?" Boze asked.

"Oh, you've heard the rumours about how you feel about me," Mari replied. "And about our relationship. Your girls just _love_  their gossip."

She leaned closer and whispered into Boze's ear. "I was thinking that we could make some of those rumours fact."

That was all Boze need ed to hear before wrapping her arms around Mari's waist and bringing their lips together.

Boze could taste her lipstick, along with a little bit of salt. It tasted delicious. What was even better was the way Mari felt under her hands. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, and Boze could feel the firmness of her muscles.

None of the kisses she'd ever shared with any of her girls had been this frantic or needy. She couldn't get enough of Mari. She was intoxicating, and Boze wanted more. She wanted to feel and taste every inch of her, to curl her fingers through that now completely black hair, to hear Mari scream her name. She never realized how much she'd truly wanted Mari until she had her, and now, she never wanted to let her go.

Mari pulled her towards the bed. Boze let her. They tumbled onto the mattress, never breaking their kiss except to pull their shirts off.

Afterwards, when Mari's head was on her chest and hands on her stomach, with Boze's arm around her waist, Mari brought up her previous question. "I still want those details, you know."  
  
Boze laughed. "Do you now?"

Mari nodded and looked up at her. There was still sweat on her face, but she looked completely stunning to Boze. "Absolutely."  
  
"Well, you're going to be disappointed, then," Boze lowered her head for a quick kiss. "I want it to be a surprise."  
  
"It better be a hell of a surprise," Mari warned with a smile.

Boze grinned. "I won't disappoint you. I promise you that."

They kissed again, softer this time, with an intensity all of its own. There was nowhere Boze would rather be than here, with Mari in her bed. And unlike all of her time with Silver, Mari was here on her own volition, because she actually wanted to be with Boze. That might have been the sweetest part of it all, knowing that Mari was enjoying this just as much as she was.

She was going to rule the world. And Mari was going to be her queen.


	38. Mari

_This better be a Hell of a surprise,_  Mari thought.

Boze had never told anyone the full plan. All she'd done was give everyone their roles. As the van moved, all anyone could talk about was what was going to happen. There were more theories than Mari could count.

But there was one thing everyone was certain would happen; they were going to kill the mayor.

That thought was exciting. This would be bigger than anything Boze, or anyone else in L.A's criminal underground, had ever done before. Mari knew that this was the start of something new for everyone. And that might just be what excited her the most.

Psycho sat next to her, reading over the blueprints again and again. Beating up Wrath had earned her a lot of respect from the other brawlers, so the silver-haired woman didn't hate her anymore. Didn't mean that they were anything close to being friends, however. Mari doubted that she and Psycho would ever get over the "frenemy" stage.

"You ready?" she asked Psycho. For some odd reason, Wrath had paired the two of them together for the mission. Even though Wrath said that she'd forgiven her, Mari was pretty sure that this was her form of revenge.

"Readier than you," Psycho shot back, running her fingers over the route they'd take, which was outlined in red. She was wearing a brown wig to hide her vibrant hair.

"Very funny," Mari muttered under her breath. She'd always had a good memory, so she'd already memorized the route, giving her plenty of time to stare at the other women in the van.

All of the brawlers were here, along with a few delivery girls to make sure that the cargo wasn't damaged. The said cargo were three leather briefcases, designed to look as inconspicuous as possible. No one would think it was anything out of the ordinary to see six women in suit-dresses with briefcases, which was exactly what they wanted.

Psycho was the one who had been trained by the fixers on what to do with its contents. Mari was simply there for extra protection, and to make Psycho look less suspicious. That was fine by her. She was looking forward to the suprise, and she felt like knowing the briefcase's contents would ruin it. She also didn't want to have to deal with any more pressure than she already felt.

The van rolled to a stop, and Chaos opened the doors to the back. "Knock yourselves out, girls."

Mari climbed out first, followed by the other five brawlers. She found herself in an underground parking lot not too different from the one back in the Compound. According to the building blueprint, they were in the one under City Hall.

They split into their pairs and headed off in three different directions. She and Psycho veered to the right and headed towards and into an elevator. Psycho punched the G button, and then they were soaring up.

Ground floor turned out to be the entrance. None of the government workers spared them a second glance as they walked through the giant room, a crystal chandelier hanging above their heads. The red carpet underneath their feet muffled the sound of their heels hitting the floor. Unless you were looking for them, you never would've spotted them out in the crowd.

Knowing better than to get on her nerves, Mari let Psycho lead the way. They walked down hallway after hallway, passing offices and meeting rooms as they did. In a way, it reminded her of the first mission they'd done together, when they'd retrieved those files in the prison. It couldn't have been more than two months since then, yet it felt like it had happened a lifetime ago.

Eventually, they arrived in what looked like a boiler room. Mari shut the door behind her and stood behind Psycho as her accomplice opened the briefcase and got to work.

Just to be safe, Mari pulled out her gun and aimed it at the door. She wasn't the best shot, but from this distance, she was sure that she'd be able to hit anyone that entered. And if anyone tried, she'd have no choice but to do exactly that. 

This was the most important part of the mission. Boze had put a huge emphasis on that fact. If anything went wrong, the entire plan would fall apart. 

It took around ten minutes for Psycho to finish whatever it was she was doing. By the time she was done, her wig was slanted on her head. She snapped the briefcase closed and made her way to the door as she fixed it. "C'mon. We don't have much time."

Mari put her gun back in its holster on her waist and followed her out, not sparing a single glance back. Together, they started heading back the way they'd come.

On their way back, a young man had stopped them and tried to flirt with Mari. She'd punched him in the face before he could finish his first sentence, and she and Psycho had to take a slight detour to hide his body in a hall closet. After that, they practically had to run back to the entrance. That experience had taught her one very important lesson;  _never_  do another mission in heels.

They arrived in the parking garage a minute late, something their fellow brawlers pointed out immediately. Mari paid them no heed as she jumped in the van. As soon as Psycho was in and had the doors closed, she banged on the wall to signal Chaos, and then they were off.

No one spoke during the short drive. Mari was practically bubbling with excitement at this point. She couldn't wait to see what Boze had in store for her.

Their second destination was an alley. There were three other vans in it, and Mari could hear more approaching. On her sides were two apartment complexes, which girls were already climbing, using the window frames and balconies as footrests. With a quick glance at Pamick, she followed their lead.

This apartment complex was far easier to climb then her's had been, and she was at the top quite quickly. The roof had been turned into a viewing area, with little foldable chairs set up in rows which girls were already starting to sit in. When Mari looked to her side, she saw that the next five complexes' rooves had been set up identically. They had an excellent, unobstructed view of City Hall from here.

Boze was standing on the edge of the roof, with Lasercorn at her side. When Mari got close enough, she turned to greet her.

"Mari!" she said excitedly. "How'd it go?"  
  
"Exactly as planned," Mari replied as Boze slid her arm around her shoulder. Lasercorn spared them a glance as he looked up from the phone in his hands. Despite the fact that he'd probably figured out what was going on between them from that action alone, he didn't look surprised.

"Good," Boze smiled. "And all the brawlers got back?"  
  
Mari nodded. "As far as I'm aware."  
  
Boze laughed, even though what Mari had said wasn't remotely funny. "We'll start any second now. We just have to wait for everyone to arrive."

Mari stayed at Boze's side as they waited, leaning into her. This felt... strangely domestic to her. They were about to murder a man, and yet she felt exactly as she would have if they were about to watch a movie back home.

After a few minutes, Lasercorn spoke. "Everyone's here."  
  
"And no one's in the zone?" Boze asked. Mari spared a glance at Lasercorn's phone screen, and saw that it was open to the GPS system on every girl's app. She could see exactly where everyone was.

"Everyone's in the clear," Lasercorn replied. Boze nodded and took the phone from him, opening it to the broadcasting system. If Mari had to guess, she'd say that Boze was about to make a speech, and wanted to make sure that everyone heard it.

Sure enough, Boze pressed a button, and every woman on the other rooves pulled out their phones and placed them near their ears. Once everyone was ready, Boze started to speak.

"Girls!" she announced. "This is a start of a new era for us! No longer will we hide in the shadows, doing missions in secrecy. From this day forward, the entire world will fear us. They will know each and every one of our names and whisper them around their dinner tables. Together, we are going to take over the goddamn world. And it all starts here!"

She held her phone above her head and smiled down at Mari, turning them so that they were both looking at City Hall. "You ready?"

"I've been ready for days," Mari grinned, earning her a smile from Boze.

Boze pressed on the phone screen. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Mari watched City Hall impatiently, waiting for something, anything to happen. She could barely stop herself from shaking in excitement.

Then, like the ground could sense her excitement, it started shaking. A low rumbling started, so loud that it hurt Mari's ears.

And City Hall blew up.

Time seemed to freeze. The building started to crack as fire pushed through it, sending shrapnel flying everywhere. Mari was transfixed as the smoke and flames billowed into the sky, and screams filled the air. It was beautiful.

Girls stood up and started clapping, yelling in excitement. Mari could smell the smoke, even though they were at least a mile away. 

Boze smiled down at her, grinning. Mari found herself grinning back. Before she knew it, their lips were pressed together, and Boze's hands were wrapped around her waist. Mari kissed her back passionately as City Hall burned behind them.

This was fucked up. She knew that. If the Mari who had agreed to become Wesley Johnson's psychologist could see her now, she would have been terrified and chilled to her very core. Everything about this was completely, utterly fucked up.

But Mari didn't care.

Because she was fucked up, too.

 

 

**The End**


End file.
